


Enamoured with You

by bxcksmysterio



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Bisexual Quentin Beck, Blow Jobs, Coming In Pants, Eventual Smut, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Gay Sex, Gentle Sex, Heavy Petting, Hypnosis, M/M, MJ is the cool best friend ™, Masturbation, Mental Health Issues, Not Spider-Man: Far From Home Compliant, Out of Character, Panic Attacks, Peter Deserves A Happy Ending, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Pining, Post-Endgame, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Indulgent, Sexual Tension, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Teacher-Student Relationship, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-07-25 21:43:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 18
Words: 59,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20032825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bxcksmysterio/pseuds/bxcksmysterio
Summary: Set post-endgame. Peter has been struggling with his mental health after the loss of Tony Stark, and May begs him to visit the school guidance counsellor, hoping it will coax him into opening up about his issues. Peter is reluctant, but when he meets Quentin Beck who specialises in hypnotherapy, he can't help but become infatuated with the man, allowing himself to feel again after five months of grief and self-hatred.Perhaps a trip to Europe will allow Peter to understand what, or who, he wants.(Peter is seventeen in this fic, and will be turning eighteen. There is no underage sex, but there will be eventual smut.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was dubious about posting the first chapter because I haven't completed the story yet and I don't have the cleanest track record of completing fics... :') but I've written a good few thousand words so far and been writing every day for the past couple of weeks, and it's been so enjoyable and rewarding that I felt that I /had/ to post it. Quentin is a good guy in this fic and he's basically what I would've wanted my counsellor to have been like while I was struggling at school (because mine was a mean bitch and I hated her guts, lmao) so this is purely self indulgent. I'm not sure for now if there's going to be any smut ensuing, but there's /definitely/ a lot of sexual frustration on Peter's part so just bare with me lol. This was also highly inspired by Multifangirl69 's My Strange Addiction (which happens to be my all time favourite fanfiction ever, please please go check that out!) so thank you to them for encouraging me to write this in the first place <3
> 
> also I might add this first chapter is total trash and i promise it gets better after this one hahahah

"How you feeling?"

The question echoed in the almost silent room, interrupted only by the clinking of May's fork against her plate. The atmosphere was tense, like a tight rope that was one thread away from splitting. Peter hadn't said much since he'd gotten back home, and he hadn't planned to until May popped the question.

_How you feeling. What a fucking stupid question. _

"I'm great, May. You know, Tony Stark is dead because of me, the world's strongest avenger and our best protector, and I'm officially a mass murderer. Half of the people from my class aren't even there anymore because I blipped and they didn't, everyone at school is a mess. I'm not even hungry and I can't remember the last time I was, I can't remember the last time I really _felt _anything except overwhelming guilt because it's my fault that Tony and Natasha died, and you asking me _how I'm feeling _every day is not going to change that fact."

Peter's voice was cold, emotionless. He wasn't angry, he didn't feel angry. Not at May, not at Thanos, not at the stupid fucking aliens that decided to _ruin the planet _and for what? Power?

No, Peter wasn't angry. The only emotion he felt was _nothing_. Like his ability to feel anything at all had been ripped away from him along with Tony, along with his classmates and along with his own morals.

Ever since the last battle where Tony gave his life, Peter had been exhausted both physically and mentally; at first, he brushed it off as just being tired. Tired and grieving. People understood, and they gave him time. At first. Now, five months down the line, it was different. Those closest to him stopped caring; it had been five months, he should've gotten over it by now. May tried taking him to a therapist, but what good was that when you can't even explain the problem because of an identity issue? Talking to her was no good, because she just told him that 'Tony gave his life for the rest of the world', 'Morgan lost her father', 'You're not the only one that’s suffering' and after that Peter just stopped listening. Ned didn't have a clue, and Happy wasn't the listening type. Plus, he was always busy managing Stark Industries now that Tony was gone. So that just left Peter alone with his thoughts for five months, his insecurities growing and doubts swelling in his mind to the point where he couldn't hear anything past them. Yes, he was a mass murderer (even if it was for the greater good), and yes, Tony was gone, along with Natasha and Vision and even Cap popped his clogs a month ago and he s_till _felt as though it was all his fault. The voice in the back of his mind constantly attacked his own train of thought, pushing down any reasoning that Peter tried to install. _Cap chose to go back and live out his life himself. It's not my fault that he died of old age once he'd returned. **But if you hadn't blipped, he wouldn't have gone back. **Tony gave his life for over three billion people to live theirs. **But if you hadn't blipped, he wouldn't have even tried. **_Peter was always arguing with _himself_, to the point where he'd just take himself off to his bed and fall asleep. Often, his dreams were plagued with images of Tony's last moments; of Thanos and his army; of the sight of those around him turning to dust. But other times, sleep was the only way of contacting Tony. Peter had struggled to get the hang of lucid dreaming, but occasionally there were times where Tony would visit him in his dreams and Peter would try to apologise for letting him die; but Tony would just shake his head, not understanding what Peter meant, before he would wake up in a cold sweat, face drenched in freezing cold tears.

It was unbearable.

He was in his room again, barely able to manage a few mouthfuls of the pasta May had coaxed him into eating. It wasn't that it didn't taste good- it was just his appetite had diminished entirely since Bruce had snapped him back, despite his ridiculous metabolism. The only way to distract himself for more than a few seconds was to put everything he had left into his school work- doing extra studying, finishing his assignments weeks ahead of time and asking for extra work. It was the only way to keep himself sane, as even being with Ned reminded him of the events five months ago. There was just no real escape from it.

Even his room felt foreign to him; after being blipped for five years, all of Peter's stuff had been thrown away by the apartment owners, and now he had no sentimental items left of value. All of uncle Ben's stuff had been chucked, along with any photos Peter had left of his mom and dad. After returning from the Snap, Peter just felt as though everything had been taken from him. His personal belongings, Tony, his sanity. _Fucking everything. _

There was a small knock at the door, and Peter scowled lightly. He knew he was being harsh on May, but he couldn't help it; it was just so exhausting even existing anymore, let alone pretending to be okay. "Yeah." He answered, not taking his eyes off his hands.

"Peter…" May approached him slowly, before sitting on the bed beside him. His room was a mess, clothes scattered along the floor and drink cans littering his sides. His bin was overflowing again (May had only emptied it a few days ago when she deep-cleaned his bedroom for the twelfth time) and there was just no order like there was before. She let out a small sigh, and her eyes tried to search Peter's for any life, any part of him left. He glanced up at her, expressionless. That was all she really needed.

"Can you do something for me?" She asked softly. Her hand had moved to rest on one of his slumping shoulders.

"Depends."

"Go see the guidance counsellor at school. Please, please talk to him. I can't stand seeing you so broken, Peter, I promised your parents I'd take care of you and I feel like right now, I'm doing exactly the opposite of what I promised them; I don't want to lose you too, Pete."

Peter wanted to feel bad for her, wanted to apologise but he couldn't bring himself to do so; he simply nodded, accepting her tight embrace but not giving anything in return as she held him close to her.

"Thank you. I just… Want you to be okay."

_Was she crying?_

"I'm sorry…" Peter mumbled, not much empathy in his tone. The grip on him tightened for a moment, and he exhaled weakly.

"It's not you that should be sorry. But please, Peter. For you. Talk to him."

"I will, May." Peter told her. And he meant it. Reluctantly, he gave her a smile.

"That's the fakest smile if I ever saw one." May chuckled through her tears, wiping her eyes and ruffling Peter's hair.

"My bad." Peter smiled again, this time slightly more believable.

"Try to get some sleep. I'll call the school and see if I can get you an appointment."

"Thanks, May."

She nodded, giving him a warm smile before getting up and leaving his room again. She closed the door, and Peter exhaled shakily.

He knew it would be a waste of time going. Guidance counsellors were never any good. But he was doing it for her, and her only. If it made her worry a little less, Peter was okay with doing it. None of this was May's fault, and Peter did feel a little guilty taking out all his anger and despair on her all of the time.

All he wanted was some peace. To be okay for just a few moments.

Just relief from being him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter becomes acquainted with Quentin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't just post that mess of a first chapter without at least introducing Quentin first

A soft groan left Peter's lips as he began to stir, muscles aching from sleep and his head pounding. Reluctantly he opened his eyes, letting them adjust to the darkness before they flitted over to read his alarm clock; it was just after three am. His skin was flushed hot and slick with sweat, and it took him a moment to notice his face was wet, too. With his sleeve, he wiped the tears away from his cheeks and released a tired sigh. He was just thankful he had stopped screaming in his sleep when his dreams were plagued with Tony's lifeless body.

There was a soft glow coming from the crack under his door; May must still be awake, he thought to himself. Since he'd started losing sleep, so had she. But he was just thankful he hadn't woken her this time. It was too hot and sticky in his room, so Peter got to his feet and leaned over to open the window and let in some fresh air. The silence was broken by the familiar sounds of cars and unintelligible voices from the streets below, and Peter allowed himself to relax; when there was sound, there was life.

A gentle breeze rolled in from outside as Peter sat back down on his bed, lost in thought. 

This time, in his dream, Tony hadn't said anything to him. Peter vaguely recalled the man turning to face him, eyes meeting with Peter's in an unspoken apology. Peter hadn't said anything to him, either. He'd stopped trying a long time ago.

Nobody else had been around; it was as though after the fight, everyone had left them to it. The devastation of the Avengers facility was noticeable, but not the main focus of his dream; simply the lifeless expression on Tony's face was what had been haunting him for the past few weeks. No sound, no harsh voices telling him he'd failed, he'd let him down, he'd caused all of this chaos. Just the rawness of seeing Tony in such a vulnerable state, the world's strongest Avenger so weak and fragile. Although a welcome relief from some of the horror-filled nightmares Peter had been experiencing since that day, it still chilled him to the bone. The image tainted his every thought, his every waking hour of the rest of his life. _He should've done better. Maybe Tony would still be here. _

With a heavy exhale, Peter laid back down on his bed and closed his eyes. He knew that now he was awake, there would be no way to fall back to sleep. There was always the option of going to talk to May, but that usually ended up in her crying and him yelling. And in the back of his mind he knew it wasn't fair on her, or him. So he just avoided the situation entirely.

It just felt so hopeless, knowing there was no way to recover from the damage Thanos had done to him. Seeing the counsellor tomorrow was more of a comfort for May, not Peter, because he knew it would be no good. But there was still a tiny, minuscule part of him that hoped that the counsellor could help him. God knows how, without Peter telling him he was Spider-Man, but just _somehow. _

\--

The next time Peter stirred, there were golden rays of light shining onto his face from where he'd left the window open. May hadn't come in to wake him up, so clearly he wasn't late for school. It had to be relatively early though, as he usually woke with the sun _not _in his eyes. There was the quietest chirping of birds singing far away in the distance, quelled by the sound of engines and voices of commuters on their way to work. Begrudgingly, he opened his eyes to squint at the alarm clock; five forty am. Deciding a few extra minutes of sleep wasn't worth it, Peter made his way to the bathroom to get ready for school. He could always go in a little early, do some studying. It beat laying with his eyes closed for another hour, thinking of all the ways he probably fucked up.

After he'd dressed, cleaned his teeth and skipped breakfast, Peter grabbed the remote and stretched out on the couch, flicking through a few channels. There was nothing interesting on, like there never usually was at this time in the morning, so Peter selected some dumb reality program he'd never really paid much attention to before rummaging in his bag for his chemistry textbook. He opened it to the page he'd left off, and concentrated on the equations on the page rather than the mid-life crisis some house wife seemed to be having on the TV in front of him. May eventually came out of her room, eyes tired and posture slouched. She offered him a small "morning, Pete", before heading into the bathroom herself.

It took a little while for Peter to notice he wasn't actually paying attention to the words on the page and put it back into his bag. He picked up his keys, deciding that he could just take a slow walk to school, called out a "bye, May" and headed out.

The temperature was a lot warmer that day than it had been for months. There were little to no clouds in the sky, allowing the sun to glare down on Peter's back with a ghost of a breeze. His muscles had finally stopped aching from the tossing and turning in his sleep, and Peter felt, well, as best as he could feel with the current situation at hand. It didn't take him long to arrive at school, and just before he made his way through the doors a call came through his cell. It was May.

"What's up, May?" Peter answered, unsure of why she was calling him so early in the morning when he'd seen her literally half an hour before.

"I forgot to mention! Your appointment with Mr Beck is at two forty-five this afternoon, so please don't forget it!"

"Oh right, of course. Thanks, May."

"Have a good day, sweetie."

"Yeah." Peter couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes at the remark, and he headed past the front doors to the main building.

\--

Peter's day had been mainly uneventful right up until his lunch break. He'd had gym with MJ right before, so she was sharing her lunch hour with him, but Ned had opted to spend his free time with Betty, which was fair enough. Peter and MJ actually seemed to be just as moody as each other these days, so they fit perfectly around each other. They didn't talk much, MJ reading a novel alongside eating her sandwich, and Peter preparing himself to go to Mr Beck's office in twenty minutes. He'd had to ask her where it even was, since he'd never been before himself and she'd visited him a couple of times in the past. Peter didn't ask what for, and she didn't seem intent on sharing. Peter fidgeted with his cell phone, his sandwich only partly finished. MJ had noted Peter's extremely decreased appetite, but Peter had just blown her off with the same dumb excuse everyone else seemed to be using: _the Blip_. She was observant enough to pick up on the fact that it was not indeed the Blip that had decreased Peter's appetite at all, but had decided not to mention it. As a reserved person herself, she could pick up on when a topic was sensitive for someone else and added it to her_ list of things Peter won't talk about_. They spent most of their time together in silence, unless discussing class work or a weird fact she'd recently learned.

When it finally turned two forty, Peter finally decided it was time to go. "I'll see you later." He said to MJ, receiving a nod in response, and he headed off towards Mr Beck's office on the next floor. When he arrived, he wasn't really sure what to do; should he knock? Or maybe someone else was inside, or Mr Beck was on his lunch break and didn't want to be interrupted, or…

Deciding against it, Peter simply hovered awkwardly outside the door for a couple of minutes. Crowds of people passed him by, none of them acknowledging his presence and he was thankful for it. Since five months ago, he'd been left alone by the majority of people; after all, turning into dust for five years and suddenly returning unscathed (minus the psychological trauma) was more memorable than 'Penis Parker'. Even Flash Thompson had relaxed a little on the name calling. Surely everyone in the world was a little traumatized from the events five years prior, enough at least to cool it with the unnecessary bullying, anyway.

Tapping his fingers on his phone screen, Peter watched a couple holding hands pass him. Right before the Snap happened, he'd been considering asking MJ out. On a date, as friends or whatever. He didn't really know. Everything just seemed so different now, like everyone was a stranger. Peter had never felt more alone in his life, as though they had never really been snapped back. Maybe he was making up this entire thing in his brain in order to cope with the fact that he'd completely disappeared from existence and was on another plane of nothingness, but he was still alive with nothing but his consciousness to keep him company…?

Before Peter could even entertain the thought that had entered his brain, the door opened beside him and a man peeked his head round the frame.

He was tall. That was Peter's first impression. About a head taller than Peter was, with large arms that strained against his white shirt, not quite buttoned all the way to the top. There was a dusting of stubble across his jaw, and his hair was messier than Peter had expected it to be. Chestnut brown, a few silver hairs dotting here and there. His eyes were bluer than Peter could've imagined possible, the kind that stared right through you without making you feel small. Like two shining sapphires. But it didn't intimidate Peter. Not that much could nowadays, anyway.

"Peter?" The man asked. His voice was soft and smooth, like warm caramel on vanilla ice cream. He was looking directly at Peter now.

"Yeah." Was all Peter could manage.

"You should've knocked! I didn't know you were out here." He beckoned him inside, closing the door behind him and gesturing to a cozy-looking armchair.

"I didn't wanna interrupt or anything…" Peter said quietly, only now realising how childish that sounded. He had an appointment booked…

Beck chuckled at that though, taking the chair opposite Peter and crossing one leg over the other. "Well, if you have an appointment then there's nothing you're ever going to be interrupting. Except maybe me eating a sandwich if you're a little early."

Peter laughed shyly at that, looking away from Beck for the moment. The man seemed too friendly. It put him on edge.

"Is there anything in particular I can help you with today, Peter? Or are you just here to make your aunt feel better?"

Peter looked up at that, a small frown on his face that screamed _how did you know that_, and he was met with a knowing smile.

"It's happened pretty often. Parents calling in to make their kids appointments because they won't talk to them, when in reality the problem is the parent themselves and not actually the kid. Don't worry, I've been doing this a long time and I can tell if someone wants to spill their life story or not."

Peter let the tension in his shoulders diminish. At least he wasn't being held hostage in here by an angry teacher who just wanted to write down everything he said to spill back to his aunt. Actually… "You're not gonna…"

"Write anything down? Nah, everything said in here's strictly confidential. Unless you tell me you're planning to hurt yourself or someone else, then I kinda have to tell someone." Mr Beck offered him another grin before settling back into his chair. "You're not planning on hurting me, are you Peter?" He teased.

"Of course not!" A small grin made it's way onto Peter's lips for a split second. It vanished shortly after.

"So, Peter Parker. Do you wanna talk to me, about anything in particular? Or is it something you feel you can't be open about, at least not to a strange man you met sixty seconds ago."

"I don't know… I don't think there's anything I can really, tell you…"

Beck studied him for a moment, examining his face and body language. Peter didn't feel uncomfortable, but he didn't exactly feel at ease. His hands shifted in his lap, and he avoided Beck's trained eyes.

"Then why are you here?"

Peter was stumped at that response. "I… I don't know I guess? My aunt, she tried me with therapists after… You know… None of them just seemed to get it, and it just feels so useless trying to get it through to anyone who will?"

"I was snapped too, kid. Were any of your therapists?"

"No…" He mumbled, quietly.

"Maybe it's something we have in common."

"I don't know about that." Peter smiled a little, shaking his head.

"Come on, try me! Or is it a life or death situation that you can't tell me?"

"Something like that."

Mr Beck was smiling again, but his head tilted in quiet confusion. "Maybe this is why your other therapists haven't worked?" He was still studying Peter with those wise, calculating eyes.

_Maybe he can read minds…_

Peter pushed that thought to the back of his head.

"There may be other psychological issues buried deep in your subconscious that perhaps you haven't considered? Sometimes the most prominent issues are the least restrictive. You're a kid in high school, except you're not just any kid- five years ago, half of the population of the planet, you and I included, disappeared and suddenly returned after five, whole years with no knowledge of what happened. What happened between those five years is potentially different for every individual who experienced it- for example, I don't remember a thing. I just remember the feeling of every single sense leaving my body… Feeling paralysed, but not being afraid, because everything was just stripped from my physical body. I don't even know how I remember it, really. Only for a second, and then I was back where I had been, only five years later."

Peter hung onto every word Beck spoke with fascination - he hadn't heard anyone talk so openly about what happened before, and he hadn't heard anyone speak with such _relation _to how he felt. The man's voice was comforting, like Peter could listen to him talk for hours on end. That alone made him feel ten times better than he had done prior to when he first entered the room. There was nothing Peter could add in regards to Beck's story, so he just nodded along, not looking away for a second. When Beck went quiet, Peter opened his mouth.

"I want to talk about it but I just feel like… Something's holding me back." _Tony was holding him back. Spider-Man was holding him back. Every secret was holding him back. He just wanted to fucking tell someone…!_

"Alright, Peter. Have you ever tried hypnotherapy?"

"Hypnotherapy?"

"So I hypnotise you - no, not to take advantage of your unconscious state of mind or anything like that - just so your subconscious can open up about what's troubling you the most psychologically, and if you feel as though you deep down want to talk about it, you will. If it’s something you can't talk about, then you won't. It's just a way of coaxing the brain into divulging what's troubling you if there is a way it can be dealt with - a way of telling the other ninety percent of your brain that _you _can't control that things aren't as bad as they seem. You don't have to tell me anything you _really _don't want to. I'm not Dr Strange."

Peter's heart leapt in his chest at the name, and his eyes flew up to meet Beck's. There was nothing there, just some lighthearted humor in his eyes. Hypnotherapy sounded way, way out of his comfort zone… But Peter wanted to try this for May, for himself. He was sick of sitting around, ridiculed by voices in his head blaming him for every single little thing that had ever gone wrong in his life. Which just so happened to be a lot. It took a lot for Peter to trust someone, but with Tony gone, he _had _to put his faith in someone else, to find someone he could just rant to abut things that weren't really important, and are legally bound to stay in this room unless Peter admitted he was a mass murderer.

His gut clenched. Before he could think too hard on it, Peter agreed. "Sure." What could go wrong?

"Alright! Most people aren't usually as enthusiastic, but I'm glad you wanna give it a go." Mr Beck smiled at him again, warm and inviting, before he got out of his chair and headed towards his desk. "I need to get your written consent though before we do anything, just to be absolutely clear this is the path you want to take, alright? I can already tell that you don't want to consciously tell me what's troubling you, but I know deep down you need somebody to talk to. I just hope I can be that person for you. Take your time, there's no rush." Beck appeared again by Peter's side with an official-looking document and a pen. Encouraged by Beck's words, Peter skim-read the majority of the file that mentioned things such as confidentiality, time slots, the risks of hypnotherapy…etc etc. Happy enough with the agreement, Peter signed his name at the bottom and noted there was a box for aunt May to sign, too. What with Peter still being under eighteen and all.

"Alright Peter, thank you for coming to see me today. Hey, I know it isn't easy- I'm not trying to be patronising at all here, I just want you to know I'm not the bad guy here. I don't expect you to any time soon, but in case you want to get hold of me outside of school hours- _just for someone to talk to_\- here's my number. I'm just here to be a friend and give you some of the guidance you need."

Peter took the slip of paper with a number printed out on it, and gratefully placed it into his pocket. The man was right- Peter had no intention of ringing him up in the middle of the night after having a nightmare, but the notion was sweet. "Thank you, Mr Beck."

"You can call me Quentin. I'm not just one of your teachers." Quentin winked at him, before sitting back behind his desk. "Come see me tomorrow after fifth period, and make sure you _knock _this time alright? I can't imagine you enjoyed standing out there for god knows how long."

"I will." Peter smiled at him, his first genuine smile in five. Fucking. Months.

Well. Technically five years.

"Thank you, Quentin."

"See you tomorrow, kid."

And Peter left the office, with his first _positive _mindset in an eternity. Strangely, he was looking forward to tomorrow- hopefully this hypnotherapist/guidance counsellor/mentor could do some good for Peter's mental state.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter confesses a secret he himself didn't know he was keeping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did try to do some research into hypnotherapy before writing this chapter and im sorry if its not entirely accurate, i personally have never been hypnotised or studied it so all errors are my own and im just here to have a good time lmao

Peter's lungs burned with the desperate need for air, his airway tightening to the point where he couldn't choke out a sound. Blackness soon crept into what little vision he had left, the rest smudged with burning hot tears. His entire body felt like it was collapsing in on itself, and the lack of oxygen soon reached his brain- all of his senses started to disappear, first his hearing and then the pain. Thanos' face swam before him, his grip relentless on his throat as he held Peter up in the air like a ragdoll. "_Insect_." He hissed with distaste, carelessly tossing Peter forty feet away from him.

Peter woke when his body hit the floor, feeling the impact shattering his bones and the breath knocked out of him. His hearing had returned, and he gasped for air to return to his lungs, swallowing deep gulps of it as if he really had been dying.

May was beside him, her hands on his wrists and a terrified expression on her face. At the sight of his open eyes, she sighed a strained breath of relief, and the grip on his wrists relaxed. Peter was violently shaking, entire body slicked in a cold sweat, even as he began to understand that it wasn't real. Well, it wasn't happening anymore, anyway. Peter went to speak, apologise to May for waking her up again, but his lungs were still screaming from the lack of air and speaking would've been too painful to manage. May seemed to understand his intentions, and simply shook her head. "I was already awake, I could hear you thrashing in your sleep. I know this isn't easy for you, Pete."

_I'm sorry_, he mouthed, fresh tears starting to fall and warm his tear-streaked cheeks. He sat up and accepted the hug May was offering, pressing his face into her shoulder and releasing the floodgates as she stroked his hair comfortingly. This wasn't an uncommon occurrence; at first Peter used to be embarrassed about crying in front of his aunt, but now it was just one of his weird personality traits. They often cried together, May for Ben and Peter for Tony. Peter was just grateful to have someone in his life that he could talk to, even if she didn't really get it. Being alone with all of this would've pushed him straight over the edge.

After a while, once Peter had calmed back down, May left the room to get back to sleep. It was early on in the night, only around one. It had been less than an hour since he had even fallen asleep…

From there he remembered his session with Quentin today, and that glimmer of hope from earlier seemed to die out. Who was he even kidding? Hypnosis couldn't cure whatever the hell it was going on in his brain, and he was naïve for thinking that it would. Perhaps he had thought that the entire time…?

Or maybe he just wanted an excuse to see Mr Beck again. Peter knew he wouldn't be able to talk to him, not about the real issues at hand: so why did he even agree to it in the first place? Because he seemed like the first and only person in the entire universe to actually _understand_ what he was going through? Or maybe because he wasn't put off by Peter's negativity and seemed to have a genuine interest in helping the kid feel better…? They both seemed like stupid reasons to Peter. Maybe he should just cancel…

But then what would he say to May? He couldn't just let her down _again_. He'd done that over and over and he was sick of ruining her life even more than he already had done. _After all, it was his fault that Uncle Ben had died…_

Peter growled at his own thoughts, unable to shake them off. Deep down he _knew _it wasn't his fault, yet the same thoughts lingered no matter how hard he tried to quash them. A symptom of depression, he'd read somewhere.

Peter wasn't depressed… He was just traumatised out of his fucking mind after everything he'd been through.

Or was he?

Shit, he didn't even know anymore.

Maybe he should just go and see Beck and see what he thinks…

This argument played on in his mind for several hours, until Peter soon fell into a slightly-less restless sleep than before, and he woke again just after his alarm when May came in to check he was awake.

"Peter! You need to get up, you can't be late."

"I know, May…" Peter's voice was rough with sleep, but he still dragged himself out of bed and got ready to the best of his ability. May palmed him off with a slice of toast today, and made him take a few bites before allowing him to walk to school to make sure he ate. It took him a little while longer to arrive at school, but he still arrived on time. Ned was waiting for him outside chemistry, which was _shocking _to Peter since he'd barely seen his best friend since he got together with Betty last month.

"Hey man, you're never this late."

"Overslept." Peter replied dryly, not having much to say to the boy. Ned obviously got the hint and closed his mouth, ignoring the glare he received from MJ across the hall and entering the classroom.

The day dragged on relatively slowly, Peter talking with Ned a little about how he met Betty's parents last week and how _amazing _they both were. Peter replied with his usual "no different" when Ned asked how he was, but added an extra "I'm seeing the guidance counsellor after fifth period, so I'll miss physics. If you could let Mr Harrington know." Ned agreed, but would not stop pestering him about seeing Mr Beck:

"I just don't understand why you'd rather talk to some skeevy counsellor from school than anyone you're actually close to. I don’t know how you think it's gonna help, but it won't, especially if you can't even tell him what the problem is, because you've barely told me and _I know you're Spider-Man._"

"Whatever, Ned." Peter had mumbled in response, thinking to himself _this is exactly why I won't talk to you about things._

The end of fifth period rolled around, and Peter found himself growing more and more nervous about his session with Quentin. He'd never exactly been hypnotised before in his life and he had no idea if he was gonna spill his entire life story or just tell Quentin he has nightmares about the Snap sometimes. Hopefully it would be the latter, but it didn't stop Peter from worrying. Making his way to Quentin's office, he remembered what he'd been told yesterday about knocking and actually raised his fist to knock on the door a few times before it opened. Quentin was wearing a cream jumper today, with blue jeans that matched his bright eyes. His hair wasn't as tidy as it was the day before. Not that Peter minded. "Hey, Pete. I was worried you weren't gonna show." Quentin teased lightly, inviting him inside before closing the door. This time, Peter took a seat before he was told.

"It crossed my mind." He said, truthfully, because there was no point in trying to keep secrets from the man who was probably planning on coaxing them all out of him anyway.

"I'm hurt." Quentin feigned shock by placing a hand over his chest, and took a seat opposite him. "You feeling alright today?"

"Just a little tired."

"You don’t look like you slept so good last night." Quentin admitted, concern brushing over his face for a moment before it disappeared. "Were you worried about today?"

"A little, yeah." Peter nodded, settling back into the soft leather of the chair and instructing himself to calm down and let his walls down. There was no point in being here if he wasn't going to talk, he just had to accept that.

"You can still change your mind…" Quentin offered, watching Peter carefully for his response.

"No! I want to be here, honestly." _Did he?_

"If you're sure…" Quentin waited a moment, before putting his hands together. "Alright, so if you'd like we can begin?"

Peter nodded, unsure of what to expect but bracing himself for anything. That made the man chuckle.

"You need to relax, Peter. That's the process of hypnotherapy- you need to calm down to an unconscious state where I can communicate with your usually-inactive mind. Here." Quentin got up, and pulled his chair over so he was beside Peter, gazing at him intently. "I need you to close your eyes for me, alright?" Peter did as he was told. "Good, alright. Next, I'd like you to focus on my voice- only my voice, and cling to it. Just listen to my voice, and nothing else you may hear as it is unimportant for the time being. Can you do that for me?"

Peter nodded.

"Good, good boy. Now I want you to take a deep breath, as deep as you possibly can take and fill your lungs to the point where you can't take in anymore air, and let it out as soon as you reach your limit. Do this several times, until you feel yourself relax. Allow all of the tension from your muscles to melt away with the pattern of your breathing. Can you do that for me?"

Peter nodded again.

He inhaled deeply, feeling the air filling his lungs and the blood travelling around his veins. Beck's voice sounded so far away, but he knew it was right by his ear. With every exhale, he could feel the tension in his muscles start to drop, and although being this defenseless terrified Peter, he knew that Beck would not hurt him. He continued to do the breathing exercises as instructed, until a hand pressed onto his chest and Peter released the last of the tension in his body. The only thing he could focus on was Beck's voice, somewhere he couldn't exactly pinpoint, but somewhere close by. All of his other senses had clouded over, leaving him alone with Beck's voice and his voice only. His own subconscious voice had disappeared, but that didn't frighten him; he knew Beck would keep him safe. It was only Beck with him now.

"Can you open your eyes for me now, Peter?"

He did, but he didn't see anything. The hand that had touched his chest was now grasping his own, but Peter hadn’t reacted to it fully.

"When you're ready, and only when you're ready and as fully relaxed as you feel capable of being, can you squeeze my hand just to let me know. Take your time, Peter. There's no rush here, it's just us."

It took a moment before Peter's subconscious responded, and his hand gently squeezed Beck's.

"Good boy, thank you Peter. If it's alright with you, I'm just gonna talk to you alright? I just want to know some things that only you can tell me, is that okay?"

"Yeah." Peter spoke, voice faraway and foreign to his own ears.

"Okay, Pete. Can you tell me, how are you feeling right now? Be as honest as you can be with me."

"Floaty like. I can't explain it."

Beck stifled a small chuckle at the response. "Alright. And how do you feel about being here with me now?"

"Don’t know. I'm here for May, really."

"You have a good relationship with your aunt, Peter?"

"Yeah, I do."

"I'm glad to hear that. It's nice to have someone close who you can talk to about any problems you encounter. What about your other relationships? Friends, family?"

"Ned's a big fat stinking butthole who cares more about his girlfriend than how I'm feeling right now." Peter couldn't stop the words from rolling off of his tongue, as if his filter had been switched off. Not that he minded though. "But MJ has been real nice to me."

"Michelle Jones?" Quentin asked curiously, before shaking his head. "You have a good relationship with her?"

"Somewhat."

"Okay, Peter." Quentin smiled at him, reassuringly despite him not being able to see him. "Perhaps Ned is dealing with some issues of his own that he doesn't feel he can discuss with you, and that is why he's seeking comfort in his girlfriend."

"I wouldn't do that."

"Do you have a girlfriend, Peter?"

"No. I don't like any of the girls here."

"What about any of the guys?" Quentin asked, casually.

"Harry used to be nice… Until…"

"The snap?" Quentin offered.

"The snap." Peter repeated.

"So you used to be close with Harry?"

"Harry got a girlfriend too, and then he just abandoned me like everyone else seems to…!" Peter's voice rose a note at the end of the sentence, but he was still calmer than he had felt in months. Nothing seemed to matter while he was here.

"Did you love Harry?"

"I don't know."

That was enough for Quentin to know. He let out a soft sigh, biting his lip. "It's difficult to know, especially at such a young age… I'm sorry that you lost such a close friend."

"He didn't know." Peter replied, heartbeat steady and had still in Quentin's. "He doesn't know… That I'm…"

"It's okay, you don't need to explain to me, Peter." Quentin said softly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Nobody knows."

Beck nodded again, using his thumb to trace circles into the boy's hand comfortingly. "That's okay, Peter. Nobody has to know. It can stay between us."

"Thank you."

"My pleasure. How are you feeling now, Peter?"

"Good… Like, there's no one else here… 'Cept for you… And it's nice, not being told him a failure every few minutes."

"You feel like a failure?" Quentin asked, a small hint of sadness in his voice.

"A massive. Fucking. Failure."

"Alright… I'm sorry to hear that." Quentin let go of his hand, and sat back in his chair to think for a moment. "Peter, you're not a failure."

"Am."

"No, I want you to listen to me, okay? All those things that you feel as though you contributed to, in any way negatively, were not ultimately caused by you. I need you to know this, alright? There are things that happen in life that are out of our control, and things that just can't be helped even with the use of a time machine. You're seventeen, Peter, and the fate of the world doesn't and shouldn't rest upon your shoulders. I want you to know that I am very proud of you for being here today and facing your fears, as is your aunt and even Michelle for coming to see me. This was not an easy thing to do."

Peter went to speak, but he felt something tug him back. One part of him wanted to argue with Beck, to tell him _yes the fucking world did rest on his shoulders because he's fucking Spider-Man_, but somewhere miles away something wouldn't let him; he stiffened in the chair, catching Beck's attention immediately.

"I'd like you to very slowly open your eyes, and allow your mind to wake okay Peter?"

With that, Peter's eyes opened and his vision had returned; his body felt a lot heavier in his chair, and the feeling had returned to his fingers and toes. He blinked his eyes a few times, glancing around as his body woke up from its unconscious state.

"Hey, welcome back." Beck smiled at him, moving his chair away to give him a little space.

"Wh- what did I say? What did I tell you?"

"Calm down, Peter. You didn't say anything, it seems your conscious mind was preventing you from saying something you really didn't want it to say so I brought you round again. Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine…" Peter's heart rate declined slowly at the response, but it soon shot straight up again as he understood what he had said to Beck in his sleep. His cheeks flushed a rosy pink. "Wait I-I didn't mean anything I said."

"Peter, I'm not here to judge you for anything. I'm just an ear for when you need someone to open up to, and I am so thankful that you trusted me enough to do so, and I am so proud of you for doing it."

"No I… I'm not gay, I-"

"It doesn't concern me." Beck said coolly, offering him a warm smile. "And if it makes you feel any better, I'm bisexual."

"You're- what?" Peter closed his mouth and blinked a few times to make sure he heard right.

"Bisexual." Beck repeated, unable to stop the grin spreading across his face. "Why? Do I not look it?"

"No it's just- I mean, I wouldn't have even thought it, like… You're like all…"

Beck rose an eyebrow, almost begging Peter to go on, but he had stopped himself. "I'm glad you think so." He said sheepishly. "Because it isn't common knowledge. I'd appreciate it if you kept this between us."

"Of course!" Peter said, almost breathlessly. Because wow, his smoking hot guidance counsellor just happened to be into men, too. "Of course, I won't say a word if you don't- If you do the same."

"Confidentiality." Beck teased, earning a small grin from Peter. "Do you perhaps think that was something contributing to your low mood?"

"It might've been…" Peter replied, having not really thought about it since Tony, Thanos and Uncle Ben were the main men on his mind and _not_ Harry Osborn. "I don't know."

"Perhaps it is, and you'll be able to sleep better tonight." Beck offered, making Peter tense a little.

"Maybe…" In fact, Peter noticed, the entire time he'd been in Quentin's office had been the longest he'd gone without feeling awful over any of the issues he had been struggling with recently. "Thank you, so much for this."

"Hey, it's what I'm here for!" Quentin got to his feet, and glanced at the clock. "Sixth period isn't over yet. I should really send you back to class…" He looked at Peter's crestfallen expression, biting his lip. "But… I guess I could just say we finished a little late." Peter lit up.

"You're the best, Quentin." He grinned, receiving a knowing smile in response from Beck.

"You still up for coming back tomorrow?"

"Please!" Peter said, a little too enthusiastically.

"We'll go for sixth period this time, then if we run over it won't matter too much. Is that alright with you?"

"Sixth period is geometry so yeah, that's alright. Thank you, Mr Beck!"

"You're welcome, Peter. Now get outta here, before you get caught."

Peter felt like hugging the man. He didn't, though.

Instead, he bolted out of the office and practically skipped his way home, feeling lighter than he had done since before Thanos. Perhaps this could be a good thing…? Sure, he wasn't exactly thrilled about unintentionally coming out to his guidance counsellor, but maybe he was right and it was just one of the many things eating away at him at the moment. Beck's response to his confession had definitely uplifted his spirits- coming out to a homophobic guidance counsellor / hypnotherapist wouldn't have been ideal, especially with his fragile mental state. Plus, there was the added knowledge of Beck being bisexual. It sure was _great _to know that the hottest teacher at school was interested in guys, too. But Peter wasn't really sure why that fact excited him so much- after all, Mr Beck's love life didn't really concern him. The thought of them mutually sharing a common secret was thrilling to Peter, though, as he now knew not only that Mr Beck wouldn't tell anyone Peter's secret because of the risk of leaking his own, but also that Mr Beck liked having sex with other men…

That thought stirred something very deep inside of his core, for the first time in _months. _It made him feel a little uneasy at first, but he was relatively grateful to actually be _feeling _again. Peter didn't think too hard on it, and made a mental note to lock his bedroom door when he arrived back home. Besides, it had technically five years since he masturbated. It would be a really good time to finally rub one out and release some of that tension. Peter almost shivered at the thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i literally have to do the most longwinded copy and paste ever to keep the formatted italics in this fic otherwise it wont work and i dont even know why the rich text just wont work if i paste it directly from my word document so i have to email it to myself first and then post it?weird, but at least i found a loophole lmaoooo! and i have been trying to post this for days im sorry it took so long, ive been away and having this italic issue and ughgfdfghjk


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter has a little time to himself, before allowing himself to open up.

When Peter arrived home, May wasn't in. She'd mentioned to him the day before that she'd be home late, but that she'd bring takeout at around eight o'clock so he wouldn't be able to get away with not eating. It was just after four when Peter came hot-footing it through the door, almost dropping his keys on the way in. It had been so, so long since he'd felt anything like this; he wanted to cling to the emotion for as long as possible, and draw out as much satisfaction from it as possible. Tossing his bag on the couch, Peter started to unbutton his pants, tearing them off his lower body after he'd kicked off his sneakers. His entire body was buzzing with excitement; he felt like a kid that had just touched his dick for the first time, and that energy was coursing through his veins like liquid gold. He quickly sat down on his bed, unlocking his phone and going into incognito for the first time in months. He didn't have time to be picky, he just needed to blow his load quickly before anything got in the way; so he clicked on the first video that came up on the site, and positioned his hand between his legs.

To his luck, the video happened to be a homemade gay-porno. Peter's dick twitched to life in anticipation, and he skipped the overly-long intro around five minutes in and took hold of his cock.

He hissed out a breath as a jolt of pleasure rippled up his shaft, increasing the pressure steadily as one of the men took the other's fingers into his mouth. Peter noted almost immediately that the bigger man resembled Quentin, with dark hair and light stubble around his mouth. Peter began to wonder if he had hair like that all over his body, or if he was smooth like the man in the video. The urgency to cum suddenly spiked, and Peter started to stroke up his dick, teeth almost chattering with pleasure as tension began to increase in his abdomen. The man in the video had his fingers inside the other now, and Peter imagined what Beck's fingers would be like inside of him, pushing deep and curling around that supposed sweet spot deep inside him…

Peter was moaning openly now, his pace quickening around his throbbing dick as the man replaced his fingers with his long cock. He still couldn't shake the similarities between the man and Quentin, but that didn't matter; what mattered was getting to orgasm, and that wasn't a difficult task when the man started to fuck the other relentlessly into the bed, the sound of skin slapping skin enough to tip peter over the edge. Suddenly he was climaxing into his closed hand, body trembling violently with the aftermath of pleasure flooding his veins. All of the tension unfurled from his body as he came, and Peter allowed his eyes to close, thinking of Quentin's face screwed up with the effort of fucking him. There he sat for a moment, collecting his thoughts again and relishing in the tingling in his fingers to his toes, centering around his slowly softening dick. It took a few moments for Peter to come down from his high, this orgasm more intense than probably any of his previous. But then again, it had technically been _five years _since his last one. He had every reason to be so breathless and shaky.

Weakly, he placed his phone back on the bed beside him and reached over to grab a tissue, cleaning off the mess in his palm and groaning at the texture. Cum wasn't exactly the nicest thing to hold in your hand.

Peter couldn't help but wonder what Quentin's cum would feel like in his hand…

Almost as soon as that thought had come (no pun intended), Peter quickly pushed it out of his mind. Getting the hots for his guidance counsellor was out of the question. The only reason he'd even allowed it in the first place was because he'd been so _desperate _to get off he just wanted to get it done as soon as possible; and now it was done, he wouldn’t have to think about it again.

Or so he thought.

It wasn't too long before May was home, the smell of Chinese food wafting under Peter's door and coaxing him out immediately. "Hey, May."

"Hi! You're looking chipper today. Did everything go alright?"

"It went _so _well! Like, really well. Mr Beck's just super nice, you know?"

"Aw, well I'm glad you found someone you can finally open up to." May smiled, passing Peter over a container full of chow mein and rice. "And I'm glad you're starting to eat a bit better - you found your appetite again, huh?" She asked, flashing him a wide grin as Peter lifted his head from the box.

"Hm- Oh, yeah. I just really like Chinese food."

"Okay, hun." May chuckled, sitting down at the table opposite him and digging her own chopstick into the noodles.

"Do you think I- could tell him I'm Spider-Man?" Peter asked cautiously, still shoveling noodles into his mouth as he spoke. "Like - he wouldn't do anything, right?"

"I highly doubt it. But I still think you would be safer keeping your identity secret Peter- at least until you're out of high school."

"Oh I know! I just mean if like, I wanted to tell him… He wouldn't hurt me or anything, right?"

"He's a _guidance counsellor _Pete- he's not Thanos!" May's face suddenly dropped at her own words, and she quickly glanced up at Peter's paled expression. "Oh no, Peter I'm…"

"No, it's okay." Peter tried, offering her an uncertain smile. "You're right. He couldn't do anything to hurt me- he said he has to keep everything confidential unless I'm endangering myself or others."

"And are you?"

"No…! I try _not _to!"

"Fair point!" May smirked, gently punching Peter's arm and returning to her noodles. "Hey, if you wanna tell him, tell him- but remember, you've only known him two days. Don't tell him anything you don't want to, Peter. This is for your benefit and no one else's."

Peter nodded, making up his mind. "Thanks, May. This was really good." He put the empty box on the table, before opening his can of drink and taking a swig. He could take things at his own pace, right? Quentin wouldn't _make _him say anything he didn't want to. He was just a regular guy, not a real wizard like Dr Strange or Wanda. Peter just had to figure out things in his own time, and he liked the way they were headed- well, his dick did at least…

_Stop it._

Peter spent the rest of the evening doing his homework in the living room with May as she watched TV, choosing to spend a little more time with her while he was in a decent mood. There had been a couple of things enter his mind, but he spoke to her whenever they appeared; and soon they grew bored and left, to his relief. They talked for hours, until May told Peter to go to bed at around eleven. Usually he would've been in there by nine, so she wanted to make sure he didn't stay up all night talking and actually got some sleep. Not that he usually got a lot of sleep.

The last thing on Peter's mind before he drifted off was the thought of seeing Quentin again tomorrow, and how strangely he was excited for it. The man just seemed to have an impact on Peter that significantly increased his mood- and right now, that was e_xactly _what he needed. And for the first time since he could remember, he slept through the night soundlessly - of course, he wasn't gifted a dreamless sleep. But his subconscious had been kinder to him tonight, and allowed him to revisit Tony's grave, empty of nothing but the flower Peter had brought him. When he woke at around six the next morning, Peter could've cried with relief of being given just one night off. With his spirits renewed, Peter began his usual routine of getting ready for school and decided to take another long walk to clear his head and daydream about the day ahead. The weather seemed to be mirroring his mood; the sun was basking down on Peter's back, not enough to make him uncomfortable but enough to warm his jacket through and make him cozy. A few clouds scattered across the sky and provided cover from the mass of heat overhead, but it was beginning to break through the cracks. A ghost of a breeze passed by to prevent the heat from becoming sticky, which Peter was grateful for. And overall, he just felt _so much better _than he had done in so long - partly due to his sessions with Quentin, and okay, maybe partly due to jacking off and scarfing down some Chinese food last night. Mood lifted, Peter entered the school and found himself thinking of Beck again - he just couldn't shake the man from his train of thought. Almost perfectly timed, Peter spotted the man talking to a student down the hallway, his back to Peter but his profile so distinct that it was without a doubt him. Before Quentin could turn and notice him looking, Peter quickly averted his eyes and hurried past, not wanting to make things awkward by being caught staring at his bisexual teacher the day after coming out himself. He headed towards his first class, spotting MJ and heading straight for her. When she spotted him, she gave a politely flipped him off and gave him a grin.

"Hey, MJ."

"Sup, dickwad? You look unusually happy. Did you kick a dog on the way to school?"

Peter stared at her in dismay, before speaking again. "No…! I just, feel a lot better today."

"Did you fuck Mr Beck?"

Peter's blood ran cold. "What?"

"You go to see him then come back all happy. You sure you didn't fuck him?"

"Positive." Peter rose an eyebrow at her, before her face cracked into another grin.

"Wow, I wish he'd say to me whatever he said to you because that's the first time I've seen you smile in five years."

Peter grinned a little himself, finally relaxing. "Well, all he said was that I wasn't a failure." He said, somewhat truthfully.

"Hey no way? Me too!" MJ teased, and Peter finally laughed at that. Like May had done, MJ punched his arm before heading into the classroom, Peter following behind. They took their seats and, in a much better mood than the day before, Peter actually started to take down some notes and listen to what his teacher was saying. Mostly he'd been pretending to listen, eyes staring off into the distance waiting for the class to end before he could go home and be depressed in peace. But this lesson, despite having to ask MJ what the hell his teacher was talking about because he hadn't really been paying attention for the last five months, Peter was finally taking part again, raising his hand at one point to answer a question and feeling smug at all the shocked eyes on his face. It felt so good to be getting back to normal again… Well, whatever normal counted for, anyway. The rest of the day went relatively slowly, much to Peter's annoyance and haste to get to his appointment. At the end of fifth period, he all but ran to Mr Beck's office and knocked a little hard, grinning widely when the man opened the door.

"You had me worried for a second - the only time someone ever knocks on my door that loud is to tell me there's an emergency." He rose his eyebrows at Peter, who was beaming excitedly, and stepped to the side to let him in. "Has something happened? You look positively… Positive."

"Just having a good day." Peter answered, sitting in the chair and waiting for Quentin.

"Oh? And here I thought you were excited to see me."

There was no hidden meaning behind his words, but Peter still felt a knot form in his stomach at the sentence. The temperature of his skin increased a little, but luckily he didn't break out in a sweat. "Maybe I am?" He replied coyly, trying not to be too awkward (and failing). Mr Beck simply squinted at him, and let out a thoughtful 'hmm…' before sitting down opposite Peter. Peter couldn't help but take his appearance into consideration again today; his hair was fluffy again today, simply brushed back out of his face presumably with his fingers. The man wore a black t-shirt, revealing his toned arms and tanned skin, a beige-coloured pair of pants and white sneakers. His style seemed to be all out of sync- but Peter didn't mind. Quentin could pull off a tight maxi dress and six-inch heels if he wanted to. After all, when he thought about him he wasn't exactly picturing him in clothes…

"So, I'm guessing things have been good since our discussion yesterday?"

"Umm… I guess you could say that." Peter said bashfully, averting his eyes again. Quentin was the kind of person that could _read a person_, and Peter didn't _want _to be his book today. "I got takeout with my aunt and we talked for a while…" He said, before realising how dumb that probably sounded out loud. Quentin, however, didn't seem like he found it dumb. His eyes actually glinted, Peter was sure they fucking glinted, and he smiled.

"That's great! Did anything in particular come up?"

Realising he meant _that _topic, Peter quickly shook his head. "Oh- no. Just… Stuff, you know?"

"Right.. Stuff." Quentin nodded, tilting his head and flashing Peter a small smile. Noting Peter hadn't answered, Quentin sighed. "You do want to be here, Peter?"

"Of course! I just… There's some things I feel I shouldn't say and I'm just … Scared of saying them."

"Hey, if you don't want to say them, then you won't. You can trust me, Peter. You'll only tell me what you_ want _to tell me."

Peter nodded slowly, feeling Quentin's gaze burning into him. Reluctantly, he met it with his own. "Okay."

"Sure?"

"Positive."

Only a short while later, Peter was back under his spell again. The feeling was quite nice; like all the weight had been stripped off of his bones and only his consciousness was hovering in mid-air, suspended in nothingness. Quentin spoke calmly to him, asking him simple questions such as how he'd slept last night and if his dreams had been peaceful. That's when Peter began to let loose a string of nonsense that Beck couldn't quite understand.

"Thanos was strangling you?" He repeated, in some concern. "Why would Thanos be strangling you?"

"Because I made him mad, and it hurt so much, Beck… It hurt so so bad…"

Beck was utterly perplexed; usually people admitted deep truths whilst hypnotised, but never made-up truths. He pressed further, still confused. "Peter, you're saying Thanos …. Like, big purple thumb looking Titan that killed half of the planet Thanos, strangled you?"

"I've never been more scared in my life, except the time when Mr Stark died and I couldn't do anything to help him and I had to listen to him die, Mr Beck, I heard his heartbeat stop."

"Tony Stark?" Beck tried, struggling to keep up.

"It's my fault that he died, I couldn't do anything to stop it and he should be the one still here, not me! He's the one that saved the universe and he's not even here to see his daughter grow up."

"Peter… What was your relationship with Tony Stark?" Beck asked cautiously, unable to take his eyes off the unconscious boy. The entire situation was bizarre and way off what he'd expected.

"I was his protégé… He picked me up from a really dark place and taught me to be who I am today and I promised him I'd make him proud, I wanted to be just like him but I fucking failed him after everything he did for me, and I just don't know if I can live up to him you know? I've just messed up so bad…"

"I'm sorry…" Mr Beck whispered, feeling Peter gripping onto his hand tightly as he slept and noting his distress at the subject. "Peter I'm sorry… But I don't understand. Who are you?"

Peter wrinkled up his face for a moment, but then he relaxed. "I'm Spider-Man, dude!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how many of you saw that coming - probably all of you lmaoo
> 
> poor quentin though, like how are you even supposed to react to something like that - 'oh, cool?' 'what the FUCK' 'nah you're full of shit why the fuck you lyyyinnnnnnnn', i'm sure if it was me i'd just laugh and be like wot 
> 
> i wrote this weeks ago and honestly reading it back again is sort of making me cringe? i promise its not this awful all the way through haha, i feel like maybe because its been so long since i've properly written anything i've forgotten how i even personally write so i'm still figuring it out as i go? i just need to re-familiarise myself and then i should be good hahah, but if you are still reading this then thank you? i love you? i appreciate you so much? ok i'll shut up now lmao


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter forms an unlikely bond with Quentin Beck.

A beat of silence.

Peter hadn't spoke anymore since the revelation, and was breathing deeply, all emotion gone again and heart rate stable. Quentin was watching him with furrowed brows, deep in thought.

It wouldn't be _impossible _for Spider-Man to be a teenage boy- it just didn't seem likely to be _this one. _Peter was small and looked skinny under his clothes- Spider-Man could stop speeding trucks with his bare hands. Something just didn't seem to add up - but why would Peter lie about it? And it would explain his reluctance to open up to previous therapists, but then why did he trust Beck?

"Alright Peter, I want you to follow my voice again and slowly come to. Can you do that for me?" Beck asked gently, brushing a few loose strands of hair out of the boy's face.

Again, Peter's eyes blinked back open and the grip on Beck's hand vanished; He shook his head a little, still slightly dazed, and noted Beck's stiffness. "What- what did I say?"

Beck looked back up at him, confusion still written on his expression. It made Peter nervous. "You wouldn't lie to me, would you Pete?"

"No- why would I…" At that, Peter slowly began to realise what he must've wanted to tell Beck- his heart jumped up into his throat, and his body followed suit. He was on his feet in under a second, scaring the crap out of Beck with the speed he leapt up at. "No- I didn't… I…"

"Hey, hey relax-!" Quentin stood too, not wanting to crowd Peter but not wanting him to bolt out of his office in panic. "I'm not going to tell anyone."

"You- you don't seriously _believe-_"

"Your subconscious wouldn't lie. It would only tell me what it _really _wanted to tell me, otherwise you'd become distressed and I'd wake you up. Peter- this is pretty big."

"No- I'm not Spider-Man!"

"Don't lie to me, Peter." Beck's voice grew low, and he frowned at him. "It would explain a _huge _amount of your worries, I mean- you saw Iron Man die?" He stopped himself as Peter winced. "I'm sorry-" He quickly added, noting the raw subject. "Peter that's… Some really heavy stuff."

"It was the worst thing I'd ever seen…" Peter started, but his voice became small.

"I can't even begin to imagine. You don't have to talk to me." Beck assured him, cautiously resting his hand on Peter's shoulder. "But… Please know that you always, _always _can. I mean, I shouldn't be but I'm pretty interested-" Peter shot him an incredulous look, and he continued hastily. "In the whole, superhero stuff. You know. That's insane."

Peter sat back down in the chair, feeling his hammering heart start to calm down. Beck wasn't a threat to him. He must've wanted to tell him, deep down- all Peter had wanted someone to talk to about his issues, but with his identity crisis, it had never been easy. When Beck sat down opposite him, those baby blue eyes pouring into his and shining with concern, Peter felt a squeeze in his chest. Perhaps this is what he always wanted, yet could never have?

"Please, Peter. I want to help you."

Nervously, Peter nodded and breathed out a shaky sigh. "Okay… Maybe… I don't know."

"We go at your pace. I won't ask you questions if you don't want me to."

"Okay…"

"And hey, if it came to it you could always beat the crap out of me with that _super strength _of yours if I ever tried to tell anyone. Not that I would." He added, a grin finally broadening his lips. "But the offer is there."

Peter chuckled at that, the tension in his body finally unfurling with Beck's encouragement. "Okay. Maybe…"

"We don't have to talk more today if you don't want to." Quentin offered, but Peter quickly interrupted.

"No I-I wanna tell you. Some things might be too…" Beck nodded his head in understanding. "But… You know, I was bitten by a spider."

"Tell me more." Beck smiled, leaning back in his chair.

\--

It had been almost an hour since Peter had started the story of his spider bite, Mr Stark arriving at his house and taking him to Germany to fight Captain America, and was just about to tell him the real reason Liz left a couple of years back when Beck reluctantly interrupted him.

"Oh my god, Peter it's almost five- as much as I'd like to stay here all day and listen, you really should be getting home. I don’t want your aunt to get worried."

At that, Peter's heart sank a little- deflated, he nodded. "Okay- um, when can I come back?"

"Whenever you like. Tomorrow sound good?"

"Yeah!"

"Alright, how about first thing? I don't know if I could go all day without talking more about this…" Quentin trailed off thoughtfully, his hand scratching his chin.

"Alright! Thank you so much, Mr Beck!" Again, Peter was hit with that elated sensation in his body- as if he wanted to hug him.

"See you tomorrow, kid."

Peter's face broke into a grin, and he left the office.

The rest of Peter's evening went smoothly - May had cooked them both carbonara for dinner, and somehow managed to not burn the spaghetti like she usually did. They sat and talked with each other again like the previous night, and Peter explained the situation at hand. May was understanding, perhaps a little outraged at first by Peter's vulnerability to trust people that could potentially use his identity to hurt him - but Peter promised that Quentin wouldn't want to put him at risk and would never tell anyone who Spider-Man really was. After a while, May dropped the subject, still not entirely happy with the situation yet relieved all the same that her nephew had finally begin to shut down his walls. Worry still reared it's ugly head when Peter was trying to sleep, but eventually his tiredness trod down his paranoia and he felt sleep pull him under.

Peter was back in Washington, dressed in nothing but his swim shorts. He didn't quite understand why, because the decathlon team were nowhere to be seen, until he spotted a figure in the pool alone. It was after dark, the neon pool lights casting a pale glow across the room, reflecting off the glass. The rest of the building was empty, and it was eerily silent. Intrigued, Peter headed towards the pool, noticing he wasn't cold, but comfortable. The person continued to swim, unfocused on him, until Peter spoke. "Need some company?"

"Please." Quentin spoke, pushing his wet hair back out of his face and closing his eyes. Strong arms flexed with the effort, shiny droplets of water streaking down his tanned skin. The man let out a soft sigh and turned to face Peter, his eyes effortlessly matching the crystal blue of the water he swam in. He'd stopped swimming, waiting for Peter to join him.

The water was warm against Peter's skin, a pleasant shiver running down his spine. Beck's gaze hadn't left him, and Peter remembered bashfully that the pair of them wore nothing more than swim shorts. By the time Peter was fully submerged in the water, he was sporting an erection that he knew he wouldn't be able to hide. Beck apparently hadn't noticed, and he closed the space between them with ease. "What do you want, Peter?" He asked, eyes burning with desire, and before Peter could answer there was a hand on his shoulder violently shaking him. He opened his eyes, disgruntled.

"Peter! Get up, you need to get ready for school!"

A loud, furious groan escaped Peter's lips and he rolled onto his side, scowling at the wall. _Thank you, May, for ruining the only decent-if-not-weird dream I've had in five years._

What even was that dream about, anyway?

Choosing not to think too hard about it (and the psychological meaning behind it), Peter trudged into the bathroom. His mood lifted slightly at the thought of seeing Quentin first thing today, and he didn't hold May to it - after all, how was she to know she'd interrupted a wet dream over his guidance counsellor?

Peter was early to his appointment by around ten minutes, but Quentin noticed him outside and let him in early, eager to hear more details. The pair talked endlessly, Peter unable to stop the flow of words from slipping out of his mouth.

\--

The more time they spent with each other, the more comfortable they both grew; Peter had been seeing Quentin for a few weeks now, and he hadn't needed to be hypnotised since, telling him stories about his _superhero duties _and explaining how Captain America wasn't really as great as he was made out to be - but he was still worthy enough to wield Mjolnir. Eventually, the topic of Tony finally came up; Peter had been talking about the final battle with Thanos, and how a group of female Avengers had helped him to stave the infinity gauntlet from Thanos' big purple fingers, when he told Beck about Tony himself taking out the stones and placing them into his own armour. The atmosphere suddenly grew very tense, and Peter went deadly silent.

"I bet it must've been an amazing moment." Quentin finally spoke, his voice as smooth as dark chocolate. "He was an incredible man."

"He was the best…" Peter started, his voice very small and timid. "The realisation that we'd won was the most exhilarating, relieving feeling… But the cost of it, was what hurt the most."

Beck stayed quiet, allowing Peter to finally express his emotions. His eyes were shining with tears, yet none of them had fallen just yet.

"I looked over and… I was just so thankful that we'd actually won, you know? And I went over to him and he had this faraway look in his eye and I told him… I told him we won, and he just kinda looked at me and… He didn't really have any emotion left in him, you know? His eyes were dark and lost, and he could barely hold his head up… There was blood all over him, and serious burns from the stones and I just remember crying… And begging him, telling him over and over we'd won and he saved us! And Pepper pulled me away, and I… I was listening to his heart, and it was so slow and I was so scared he was gonna… And then it disappeared, his heart rate it- it just stopped and I don't…" Peter stopped when Beck got to his feet, face full of sympathy. It was only then that Peter realised he was crying, his face streaked with salty tears and eyes rimmed red.

"Come here…" The man said softly, gesturing for Peter to stand too. When he did, Quentin pulled him into a hug, tight and enveloping. Peter could smell cologne on his clothes and something else he couldn't quite lay a finger on. The arms around him melted his ice barriers with fire, and Peter buried his face into his counsellor's shoulder, harsh cries suddenly wracking his body. A hand rested on his upper back, rubbing circles into it in an attempt to soothe him, the other coming to rest on the top of his head and gently petting it. Peter clung tightly to Quentin, all of the pent up stress in his body releasing in shallow sobs. His grip on Beck's shirt was unfathomable, as if Peter felt not holding on tight enough would cause him to crumble in his embrace. _Please don't let me go, please don't let me go._

After an eternity, Peter was the first to reluctantly let go; his face was splotchy, eyes bloodshot from crying. There was a damp patch on Quentin's shirt from where he'd been crying, and part of him felt as though he should be embarrassed, but for the most part he just felt _better. _It had been so long since he'd been able to willingly release any real emotion, maybe even so long ago as when he first got dusted… When Tony was still here… Peter went to wipe his face with his sleeve, but Quentin already had a tissue in his hand to pass to him. "Thank you…" He mumbled, voice wavering when he spoke.

"Don't thank me. That must've been so difficult…"

"Yeah…" Peter sniffled, wiping his eyes with the tissue and clutching it tight when he was finished. "I just really miss him."

"Tony was a great person. He saved the world more than once, and every single one of us here owe him our lives for that. Even in 2012, he could've died. Think of how many times the Earth has been saved since then."

"I don't know what we're going to do without him…"

"We still have you." Peter glanced up, giving Beck a puzzled look.

"No… I'm nothing like Iron Man, I'm not smart, or rich or… Strong or…"

"Peter… Why are you doubting yourself? Stark had armor, but you have strength. You have faster healing, you can withstand a _whole lot of pain_ and keep on going - you're telling me that with you, you don't think we have a chance? I'd say we're lucky to still have you - God knows what we'd do without you keeping us safe."

Peter's cheeks were pink from the compliments, and he wasn't sure how to respond. It wasn't often he was appreciated for his… _Unique _skill set. He gave Beck an appreciative smile. "Thank you, Quentin…"

"Any time… Hey, are you sure you wanna go back to lessons? I don't know how I feel about you trying to sit through a class if you're still distressed…"

"I'll be fine! Thank you though, seriously. I really appreciate everything you're doing for me."

"It's nothing really, I'm just… Pardon the pun… A shoulder for you to cry on."

Peter laughed at that, his eyes still a little watery but the pain mostly gone from them. His next lesson was due to start soon, so he thanked Quentin again and left, slightly shaky still but mostly alright. No one commented on his attire when he arrived, especially with his eyes still a little bloodshot, except MJ who noticed his expression almost immediately and cornered him. "Hey- are you alright? You look like, seriously upset."

"It's okay, I just had a stressful morning…"

"Quentin didn't make you say anything you didn't want to, did he?"

"What?" Peter asked incredulously, looking hard at the girl. "No! It's just not something I want to talk about, thanks."

"Sorry - I just don't think I've ever seen you crying before, man."

Peter's expression softened and he immediately felt guilty. "I'm sorry - I'm fine, really." He promised her, not waiting for her response before he entered the classroom, feeling a few pairs of eyes on him as he took his seat. The milling chatter died down when their teacher entered, and Peter allowed himself to relax a little and rest his eyes. Chemistry was something he'd always got the hang of, even without paying too much attention in lessons, so he rested his head in his hands, the exhaustion from crying settling in and causing him to cave into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aw man re-reading this made me feel like im rushing it, but at the same time im not?maybe im just too attached and dont wanna let this go 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flash Thompson is a massive dick, basically

Peter was rudely awoken to a sharp stab in his right shoulder. His head flew up off his arms, and he turned to glare at the source of discomfort, which happened to be MJ. Without meaning to, he hissed at her. "What do you want?"

"Dude, it's partner work. I'm not doing all the work for you cuz you wanna take a nap. Go get the safety goggles."

Peter scoffed at MJ's bluntness, and got to his feet, noting it had only been around ten minutes since his head had hit his arms. Ned tossed him over two pairs on his way over, which Peter thanked him for, but on the way back he couldn't help but overhear someone's conversation that he definitely should've avoided.

"I just don't think Iron Man was all that everyone's giving him credit for. Like yeah he did that weird snap thing that saved the world, but he was just a shitty person. I mean, his money came from selling deadly weapons to third world countries and _his _company's name was what was left in the rubble. But suddenly he's a good guy? Doesn't change his past."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

Peter spoke before he could stop himself, but the boiling rage that had overflowed out of his veins without warning was unstoppable. His hands were shaking so hard that he almost dropped the glasses, if it weren't for his knuckle-whitening grip that he was sure cracked the glass. It didn't occur to him that he'd spoken so loudly, that a lot of people were turning in his direction in shock at the outburst; and Peter could feel himself tipping over the edge very quickly, and too fast for him to handle. The girl that had spoken turned to face Peter, looking him up and down in disgust.

"What's your problem, man?" One of his classmates called out, giving him a dark stare.

"Tony made mistakes like everyone in this world does, but he made up for them! He saved every one of your ungrateful lives and it cost his own in the process. How fucking dare you talk so little about him when none of you will _ever _come close to doing anything so selfless for the benefit of _everyone on this planet_?" Peter was talking before he could even think straight, the string of words leaving his mouth unfiltered and _shocking _to a lot of his classmates that knew him as this quiet nerd.

"You've never even been in the same room as Tony Stark," Flash chimed in with his usual awful timing. It had been weeks since they'd even spoken (or, Flash had even hurled abuse at Peter in the corridor). "You think sticking up for him now's gonna get you brownie points? Stark's dead, and as much as you wanna tell yourself you know him, you'll never get the chance to because he got what's coming to him."

It took every ounce of self-restraint Peter had in his entire body not to lash out right there and then and _break _Flash's nose in front of everyone. Everyone was watching now, even his teacher too dumbfounded to say anything. Flash had this smug expression on his face that Peter just wanted to wipe off with his fist; but he knew if he was to act on his impulses, he could probably kill Flash with one punch if he tried hard enough, and that wasn't really something he wanted to deal with the consequences of, despite how tempting it seemed there and then. Before Peter could say or do something he knew he'd regret, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, not being able to handle being in there for a second longer. The second he was outside and the door was slammed shut, Peter's airways started to tighten; his heart jumped up into his throat, and the dizziness settled in. Not wanting to pass out outside the classroom he's just walked out of, Peter started to stumble down the hallway, looking for the nearest bathroom to calm himself down in as best he could through his blurring vision. Somewhere in the distance, he heard a voice, but he ignored it in favour of finding the bathroom. It spoke again, and Peter could've sworn he saw Mr Beck out of the corner of his eye; but he was delirious, and his throat was still tightening, causing him to gasp sharply for air and eyes to water. When the figure made towards him, Peter dodged it and started to run, choking for air as his legs took him as fast as they could out of the building. Explaining himself to someone was not his top priority at the present moment, along with embarrassing himself. Through the tears and dizziness, Peter could barely see where he was heading, but made out a patch of green and headed towards it, hoping he could lose whoever it was tailing him in the trees. He only made it about halfway across the field before his lungs started to give out, along with his legs, and Peter collapsed onto his knees, panting shallowly and struggling to keep his cries quiet.

It was _his _fault Tony was gone. Morgan was never going to see her father again, Pepper her husband, and it was because of _him. _He should've done something more to help, he knew Tony was dying but all he could do was watch in horror. If he was fast enough, they could've got Tony some help. _If he was good enough, maybe Tony would still be alive._

It wasn't long before the figure had caught up with him, and a hand touched his upper back, causing Peter to lash out. The contact seared his skin like a burning hot poker had been pressed into it, and he yelped.

"Peter! Peter, it's me hey… What's the matter? Oh my god, Peter."

Mr Beck dropped to his knees beside him, hand still rubbing Peter's back in attempt to calm him down but to no avail. Peter could barely hear him through his attack, ears ringing and vision almost black. His body was wracked with violent sobs, and at one point Peter thought he was going to throw up; his stomach was clenching and unclenching, his throat tightening, and he was terrified. It felt as though the world was closing in on him, exactly how it had felt when his existence began to fade away to dust. They were both on the ground for a long time, Quentin holding onto Peter's shoulder with one hand and rubbing circles into his back with his other. Mr Beck continued to talk him through it, reassuring him that he was there and he was going to be okay. Eventually, Peter found his ability to breathe again and took in a few deep breaths, with Quentin telling him he was doing good and to keep at it. By the time he'd stabilised his breathing again, Peter found himself leaning into Quentin's touch, resting his head on the man's shoulder and feeling arms wrapping around his body again. The contact allowed the tension in his body to abate, and Peter clung desperately to the man like he had earlier, the sensation in his stomach shifting into something different. Once he could move again, Peter turned to glance at Quentin, his heart squeezing at the man's crestfallen expression.

"Hey, are you a bit calmer now?" He asked softly, and Peter nodded, shifting so that he was no longer on his hands and knees and his ass was on the grass. Quentin let him go. "You had me really worried-"

"I'm sorry-" Peter grimaced at how weak and shaky his voice was, but Quentin paid it no mind. "I'm sorry you had to chase me out here…"

"You looked distraught, I couldn't just let you run off like that- did something happen?"  


"It's stupid…"

"Nothing you tell me could ever be stupid, Peter."

With tired eyes, Peter looked away from Beck again and stared at a few blades of grass. The thought of worrying Beck made him feel sick; but also, it consoled him. It had been a long time since anyone at school had cared about his mental health.

"I was in chem, and… I heard people saying that Tony was a shitty person, and I got mad, and then Flash said something and just… I thought I was gonna lose it and hurt him, like real bad but… I left and it just got too much and I started panicking and I was gonna go to the bathrooms but then I saw you and I didn't know it was you and I just… I don’t know…"

"Hey, it's alright." Beck was beside him now, one arm over his shoulder in an endearing manner. Peter's head slowly leant into his touch. "I can totally get why that would've made you upset."

"I'm never going to be able to see Tony again and thank him… Because he's fucking dead and it's my fucking fault…!" Quentin flinched a little at Peter's vocabulary choice.

"No, Peter…" Beck was rubbing his shoulder, as he felt the boy tense up like he was about to cry again. "No, we talked about this it isn't your fault."

"It is though! It's my fault!"

Beck didn't argue with him, knowing now would not be the best time to interfere. No matter what he said, Peter was going to blame himself for everything; it was just in his nature. There was just no way to convince someone who'd experienced trauma that they weren't to blame for it happening. He'd learned that from experience. With a shaky sigh, Quentin let him go and got to his feet. "I don't think you should be in school today, Peter. You're highly emotional and I think it would be best for you to go home and get some rest."

Peter wanted to argue, but deep down he knew his counsellor was right; and honestly, he didn't feel like facing the consequences of just walking out of his lesson. He watched Beck stand, before getting onto his own unsteady feet, his heart warming as Beck's hands moved to his elbows just in case he was too wobbly on his feet. When he was sure Peter could stand alone, Beck let him go. "Can May come and get you?"

"No, she's at work until late…"

Beck pinched the bridge of his nose, evidently thinking hard. A moment later, he spoke again. "I don't want you to walk home… Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't think you're in a healthy frame of mind and you're more likely to hurt yourself. I need you to be safe, that's my responsibility as your counsellor. I can drive you?"

Peter blinked. _Was that even allowed?_ Regardless, he gratefully accepted the offer as he wasn't quite ready to be alone yet and Beck's company was the most consoling as of the present. He followed the man across the field and to the parking lot, where he was led to a black BMW. Beck unlocked it and gestured for him to enter, opening his own door.

"What's your address?" Beck asked softly once he'd started the car, tapping on his gps. Peter gave it to him, and they pulled out of the parking lot, slight tension between them.

Peter had a lot on his mind. It had been a long time since he'd shown his vulnerabilities to anyone, and a long time since he'd been calmed down from a panic attack so fast; Beck's presence, while unwanted at the time, was highly appreciated by Peter. He wasn't sure if he'd want anyone else to see him in such an unstable mindset. Quentin had known almost exactly how to calm him down, as if his mere touch alone grounded him and reassured his insecurities that he could get past this. Perhaps it had started with Peter finally coming to terms with Tony's death this morning, and Flash's comments had simply snapped something in him he'd long been repressing. Or maybe he was just outright losing it. Honestly at this point he wasn't even sure. He'd seemed to be making progress with Quentin; he'd been having infrequent nightmares, some of his dreams actually including the man once or twice. He wasn't at all sure what it had meant, until he'd collapsed into his arms earlier and the stress and anxiety had melted away, replaced with this odd agitation in his core he couldn't seem to shift. Peter was trying to disregard it and feign ignorance for the time being. All he wanted was to get home and just _sleep._

There was a stretch of silence between the two for a few minutes, before Peter let out an exhausted sigh which caught Beck's attention and closed his eyes.

"You feeling alright there?" He asked, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. The radio was on low, but it wasn't enough to mask the edge.

"I'm just stressed." Peter answered honestly, breathing shakily through his mouth. The rolling in his stomach didn't seem intent on diminishing any time soon, and Peter was almost glad when Quentin finally pulled up outside his apartment block. "Can you walk me up?" Peter asked sheepishly, not yet ready to part ways with the man. There was a pause as Quentin had to think for a moment, and Peter was silently cursing himself for even asking, but Quentin broke it.

"Of course." He decided, smiling at Peter and unlocking the car. "Just don't tell me you live on the top floor and there's no elevators. I'm a fair bit older than you. And less genetically-mutated."

Laughing at the comment, Peter got out of the car and headed towards the building. "I live on the seventh floor. But we have elevators!" He added when Beck rose his eyebrows.

"My knees are glad for that."

Peter entered the elevator, pressing the button that read '7' and moving over to give Quentin some room. Not that the elevator was small.

Beck looked at him again, concern ghosting his expression momentarily before he smiled again, and a small voice at the back of Peter's head made him wonder what would happen if he was just to press Quentin against the wall and kiss him. A dusty blush spread across his cheeks for a moment at the thought, especially with Quentin so close beside him. Willing for his mind to kindly _shut the fuck up, _Peter let out a quiet sigh of relief when the shaft came to a halt and the doors opened. They exited together, and Peter headed down the hall until he came to a stop outside his front door. "This is me. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Peter. I'm just glad you're safe. Are you feeling any better?"

"Loads. Thank you, really. Do you uh… Wanna…" Peter awkwardly looked between him and the door, unable to find the right words. "Come in? For some - a drink? Or something?"

Quentin tilted his head ever so slightly, before politely shaking his head. "I should be getting back and telling someone where you are, we didn't get a chance before we left. Thanks for the offer though."

_Oh._

"You're welcome." Peter forced out, giving Quentin his best smile and unlocking the door.

"Please get some rest this weekend. You look like you really need it. I don't mean that in a bad way-" He added quickly, but Peter laughed it off.

"No, I do." He'd totally forgotten it was Friday. That meant he wasn't going to be able to see Quentin until Monday afternoon, probably… Refusing to let the disappointment show in his expression, Peter waved Quentin goodbye and closed the door. A loud, exasperated groan rolled out of him before he could stop it and he headed towards the fridge to get some lunch. May wouldn't be back for hours, and Peter was planning on spending the rest of the day in bed, so eating now and sleeping after seemed like his best bet.

He couldn't help but let his mind wander to Quentin again after a while, but this time he didn't fight it. For the past couple of months almost, he'd been seeing his counsellor daily; they spent an hour together, talking limitlessly about anything he'd ever had an issue with. Quentin had all of the right responses to Peter's worries; he didn't patronise him like a child, or get annoyed with him for still being upset about a certain subject after they'd spoken about it. Beck was just there to listen to Peter's problems and offer him advice or praise him for pulling through. Most kids Peter's age couldn't even handle homework and girl problems (or boy problems), so the fact that he was juggling both those and being Spider-Man on top of that was inspiring and worthy of respecting. Peter grew more and more attached to the man, to the point where the highlight of his day was coming into school just to see him; plus, there might've been a tiny nagging crush that was sated every time they spoke. Whenever Peter wasn't with him, he felt alone again. When he was near, Peter felt safe.

But a lot of other things had gotten better since he'd started to see Mr Beck; sure, he hadn't seen Ned much. And okay, there was still the post-snap thing. But his relationship with May seemed to be getting better, and he seemed to be getting closer to MJ, his attention in class was sharper and he was able to masturbate again. Not that it was much, but it was certainly better than feeling absolutely _nothing _like he had been for the months prior to meeting Beck. Plus, he also seemed to watch a lot more gay porn than before, specifically that of the man who Peter had first noticed looked like his counsellor the month before. Occasionally he would come, with Quentin's face in his mind and name on his tongue. There was just no way of stopping himself. Peter knew it was dumb to have the hots for his _counsellor _of all people, but he had no power over the emotions swelling in his body and influencing his mindset. He was still seventeen for god's sake, and he was still a virgin! It couldn't be helped, especially with him being a growing teenager. There was no way for him to act on it (and honestly? There was no way in hell Beck would ever feel the same way so what would it do anyway?), so Peter just relished all of the time they spent together, appreciating the way Beck's eyes crinkled when he laughed, or the way they sparkled when he was particularly interested in something Peter was saying, refusing to take them off Peter all the while he spoke. He appreciated Beck's genuine fondness of him, and how he got to know him as a person rather than a student. And while Quentin was still his high school counsellor, and not just another student Peter could effortlessly hook up with, Peter couldn't help himself for falling harder for him every single time he was nearby. It was a catastrophic plane wreck, yet the most he'd healed in months.

Peter ate his lunch and returned to his room shortly after, engulfed by sleep in minutes. Instead of nightmares, Peter dreamt of Quentin again, of his touch and his words. Peter slept for hours, peacefully and in the company of Beck only.

It was his favourite kind of company.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter struggles with his sexual frustration, and Mr Harrington has an announcement.

Peter pulled through the weekend, endlessly pining over his counsellor through heavy masturbation sessions. May mostly left him to himself, which he was grateful for as he didn't enjoy the idea of her walking in on him whacking one out to two men 69'ing on his phone. By Monday morning, his dick was painfully sore, but hopefully seeing Quentin that afternoon would soothe some of his suffering.

Oh, it did far from it.

Much to his dismay, Quentin _for some reason _brought up the topic of underage sex. Peter had no idea how it had been brought into the conversation really, as he hadn't been concentrating too hard on the words in comparison to Beck himself. But Quentin had casually mentioned how he'd unfortunately overheard details on a student's recent encounter with the loss of their virginity in the hallway, and mentioned how it had definitely _not _been something he'd wanted to hear.

"So what about you Peter?" Beck asked, an aloof expression on his face.

"What about… Me?" Peter asked, a little nervously.

"Is sex something you think about a lot?"

The way Quentin had said it so nonchalantly, had Peter's face heating up. So far he hadn't kept anything from his new mentor, but he wasn't entirely sure he was comfortable spilling details about his sexual fantasies with the man they were centered around. "I… Guess?" Peter tried, unable to look him in the eye. Clearly it was an easy topic for Quentin and he had no awkwardness around it, but for some reason Peter just felt… Small. Discussing his sexual frustration with the man causing it didn't sit well with him. Simply uttering the word sex brought a flurry of emotions into his mind. The first thing Peter thought of was Quentin. The idea of the man bucking his hips into him, the sensation of his stiff cock rutting into his prostate over and over until Peter couldn't keep his moans to himself. He visualised the sweat clinging to Beck's muscular torso, like when he'd had that dream of Washington and Quentin had been swimming in the pool. Peter hadn't exactly seen the man without a shirt on, but the way his shirts clung to his torso indicated there had to be more than just fat there. Peter's mind wandered further, and before Beck had even had a chance to respond, Peter's body was reacting to his vivid imagination, the tiniest amount of movement in his pants. His cheeks darkened further at the realisation, and he quickly crossed his arms on his lap, sitting forward a little to conceal the growing hardness in his pants.

Beck apparently hadn't noticed, or so it seemed, and had decided to continue the subject despite Peter's pink face. "I should've expected that, really. You're a seventeen year old kid, of course you think about sex. It's probably the most important thing on a teenager's mind, besides being Spider-Man." He flashed Peter a wink, which went straight to his dick, and all Peter could do was nod in response. To his relief, Quentin then changed the subject onto his grades. Still, he was struggling to pay attention to what the man was saying, graphic images of Quentin's naked body flooding his mind and making the situation worse. "I shouldn't have brought it up, should I?" Quentin suddenly said, and Peter frowned in confusion. "You're thinking about sex right now."

"I-I'm not!" Peter spluttered, horrified. "I'm just… Distracted?"

"What's on your mind then?" Quentin then pressed, sitting forward like Peter was and looking at him scrutinizingly. "You don’t seem with it at all. You were fine until I mentioned sex."

Peter made another noise and blushed furiously, looking anywhere but Quentin. If he wasn't sporting such a noticeable erection, he probably would've tried to make a break for it. "Come on, man! I'm a seventeen year old virgin!"

"So the word sex makes you hard? Or the idea of having sex?"

"Please stop saying the word sex." Peter asked, embarrassed, eyes still on the floor.

"Of course. Am I pushing?"

"A bit."

Beck smiled a little at that, and seemed satisfied with his answer. "Alright. I won't ask again."

"Thank you." Peter exhaled, the colour finally draining from his cheeks but his erection going nowhere. Beck seemed pretty pleased with himself for the rest of their session, and by the end of it, Peter's hard-on was still pressing into his legs. Beck dismissed him, but Peter was still afraid of showing his boner to the man, so he got up awkwardly with his hands over his crotch. Quentin raised a knowing eyebrow at him, but Peter acted indifferent and left the room, furious at himself for not being able to control his penis. Luckily, Beck had released him a few minutes before everyone else was due to finish class, so he sprinted down the empty hallways in search of the closest bathroom. When he entered it, he was relieved to find it empty and locked himself in a stall, quickly dropping his pants and taking his solid dick into his hand. The situation was ludicrous, and unsanitary. _Purely to get rid of it before everyone else saw it_, he told himself. His mind soon wandered back to its favourite image of Quentin hovering over Peter's naked body, with Peter's legs hooked up over his shoulders so he could access his entrance better. Before he knew it, there was cum in his hand and Peter was breathless from the release, body trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He quickly cleaned himself up with some tissues and washed his hands, before heading to his next lesson, legs trembling and mind still lingering on the thought of Beck's body.

When he arrived, however, they were told by Mr Harrington that he had an announcement to make, and was waiting for another member of staff's arrival. MJ and Peter shot each other perplexed looks, but took their seats regardless. When the door opened, Peter glanced up and almost choked when Quentin entered the room, ignoring the frown MJ sent his way. As if his luck couldn't get any worse, Quentin's eyes seemed to find him immediately; there was a knowing smirk that grazed his lips for just a moment, before it disappeared and he headed to Mr Harrington's side. There were a few confused whispers.

"Alright everyone. Due to the events of the snap a few months ago, and due to a donation to the Midtown High decathlon team from Tony Stark-" Peter's face darkened. "-a few months ago following his death, it's been decided that our class is going to go on a trip-" excited chatter suddenly buzzed through the room. "-to Europe for two weeks! As the students from the decathlon team are from our class, we decided it was only fair to take the whole class."

"Oh my god no way!" MJ was saying next to Peter, nudging him with her shoulder excitedly. "_Europe?_"

A grin broke out on Peter's face at the thought of spending two weeks in Europe with his class (minus Flash Thompson, but he could deal with him if it meant a two week vacation), and he glanced up at Beck, who had a broad smile on his lips.

_Oh my god, what if Mr Beck is coming?_

"Mr Beck and I will be your chaperones, as I cannot be responsible for an entire class of hormonal teenagers loose in Europe, and he is the best qualified to deal with anything that could go wrong-" Quentin turned to frown at Mr Harrington, who quickly added: "Not like anything will go wrong…! You just can never be too prepared for these things…"

"I already know some of you in here, but I'm yet to introduce myself to a lot of you. I'm the school guidance counsellor, so if there are any problems on the trip you are more than welcome to come and find me. I'm here to make sure you all have a good time, and I'm not gonna turn down a paid vacation, am I?" He joked, his eyes landing on Peter again before they quickly flicked away. There were a few giggles from a lot of the girls, but Quentin pretended he didn't hear them, and Peter felt a twinge of jealousy in his stomach at the thought of his classmates giving _his _counsellor heart-eyes.

"We'll be going to France, England, Spain and Italy during the course of the trip, so there will be a lot of things you need to bring with you, but we'll hand out letters in a moment, and answer any questions you might have after you've read them."

Talking broke out again once Quentin had finished his speech, but Peter couldn't seem to take his eyes off the man; as if he was taking Peter's class to Europe? MJ seemed pretty excited too, which shocked Peter as it was infrequent she got excited about _anything _other than a new fact she'd learnt, or a book she'd recently finished. Even Ned turned around to speak to them, and Peter had to stop himself from making a comment under his breath.

"No way! _Europe?!_" He basically repeated MJ's statement, a grin breaking out on his face that Peter couldn't help but mirror, all hostility vanishing. "We always wanted to go to Europe!"

"You're definitely gonna come?" Peter asked excitedly, and Ned gave him a look.

"How could I turn this down? And _Tony _paid for it?!" He cut himself off though at Peter's glare, and MJ frowned between the two at the sudden silence.

"Stark, huh. I wonder why he'd leave the decathlon team so much money…" Her eyes flickered to Peter momentarily, but moved away from him almost as quickly as they'd landed on him.

"Maybe because Peter was an intern for him?" Ned said, a little loudly as if to make sure Flash heard it, and Peter shot Ned another glare.

"Stop it, Ned…"

"Whatever the reason, I'm sure a lot of you are very thankful for the opportunity and are grateful for Tony to leave such a generous gift." Quentin interrupted loudly, his eyes briefly meeting Flash's as the memory of Peter's panic attack came back to mind. "And I wish he were here for us to thank him."

Flash scoffed loudly and Peter tensed, but nothing further was said on the matter. The class read the letters they were given, which had dates and locations but weirdly enough, no trip cost. Someone raised their hand and mentioned this, but Mr Harrington told them that Tony had specified that any future trips were to be funded from his donations and that none of the students would have to pay out of their own pocket. At that, Peter beamed and met Quentin's gaze again. The man nodded to him and smiled, and Peter should've known Tony was more selfless than people gave him credit for. Their first trip was to Venice, followed by Paris then London and then Barcelona. The money Tony had left had paid for villas in Venice and Barcelona, and allowed them to rent large town houses in London and Paris. They would sleep in groups of 4 but not separated by gender, to their luck (and as they were all over the age of consent, it didn't really bother Quentin or Mr Harrington what they got up to as long as it was quiet), so Ned, Peter, MJ and Betty decided they were to share a room together. The trip was two weeks away and already paid for, the students just had to get their consent forms signed and pack a bag. There were a few more questions asked such as how much spending money to bring and what the activities were, but Quentin said that it was up to the students what they did during the day and how much they spent. By the time everyone had finished their questions, it was almost the end of the period. Mr Harrington decided that he'd just let everyone go early, especially as no one would be able to concentrate on science after being told they were going to Europe for two weeks. Everyone piled out, but Peter told MJ and Ned to wait for him. "I'll just be a second." He promised them, ignoring their sceptical expressions as they exited the classroom, leaving Peter with Quentin while Mr Harrington headed over to his desk.

"You never told me…!" Peter started enthusiastically as soon as the door was closed, his voice a little quiet so that Mr Harrington wouldn't hear but excitement still shining through his tone.

"I couldn't until I told everyone else, otherwise I would have done, Peter!" Beck told him, a loose smile on his lips. "You think you'll be able to come?"

"Definitely!" Peter grinned, crossing his arms. "I just can't believe Tony…"

"He's a generous man. I wish I could've let you know sooner."

"It's okay! It's just wow, Europe… And you're coming, too…" Peter's voice trailed off at that last bit, and Quentin gazed at him for a moment.

"Is that alright with you?"

"Wh- of course! That’s totally fine with me, so fine, very much… Fine. With me." Peter's face felt hot at Quentin's bemused expression, and he nodded and made to leave.

"Hey wait, Peter- did you sort out your little problem?" Quentin asked lowly.

"My…" At that, his cheeks burned scarlet red and he blinked a few times. "There was no problem!" He said a little loudly, before turning on his heel and walking as physically possible out of the room. He didn't notice the amusement on Beck's face at his response, and gestured for Ned and MJ to leave.

"Why do you look-"

"Never mind. Let's just go." He practically begged with burning cheeks, wanting to put as much distance as he could between him and Quentin. The two exchanged a look, but didn't press the issue further, following Peter out of the building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly thank you guys so much for the sweet comments and kudos <3 i was so hesitant about even starting this fic with a loose idea, and now i have a solid plot and i'm soon to come to an end with writing it for the first time... ever? so far i have 13 chapters written in advance, and i'm averaging at best because i struggle to plan properly hahah, that there will be between an extra four to six more chapters depending on how it goes. really, i'm overwhelmed by the support and so grateful for the feedback, especially such nice comments as it really assures me that i'm doing okay and should continue the fic. i know it's very slow burn, but in the end there will be promised smut! it'll take a while to get there so you'll have to bear with me, but i want this fic to flow as naturally as possible and immediately delving into sex between an underage student and a teacher isn't really in my comfort zone, haha. there's a LOT of sexual tension, but no smut at least until after peter is eighteen. but thank you so much for sticking with me, i'm having such a good time writing this and i hope you enjoy reading it?<3


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The class touch down in Venice after an interesting flight.

The next two weeks couldn't come fast enough for Peter. Luckily for him, he'd had a flurry of dreams centred on the trip, some strange yet some outright filthy. One of them included a plane crashing, but he and MJ managed to parachute out of the window thanks to his suit. Everyone died on board. Another one included Flash drowning at a beach, which wasn't so unpleasant. But by the early hours of Sunday morning, he was laying in bed restless, unable to fall asleep knowing in less than twelve hours he'd be on a plane. At least, he told himself, he'd be able to sleep during the flight. He'd always felt a bit nervous of planes, perhaps due to his lack of experience with them besides the one time he went to Germany with Happy. Eventually, around two hours before he'd have to wake up to get ready, Peter fell into a light sleep but it was over before he'd even started to dream. May was panicking about him packing his suit and anything he might need, but Peter tried to reassure her it was Europe- Spider-Man didn't protect Europe, and he hadn't even been protecting Queens much as of late, either. But still she managed to slip the suit into his case, and he groaned. It was lucky he had enhanced strength, with all of the crap May was shoving into his case. Even a banana.

"May, I can't take this- stop putting things in-"

"What if you get hungry on the plane? You'll have to wait eleven hours before you can eat again and that's not healthy for your metabolism and-"

"I'll be fine, May. They have food on the plane and everything."

"Alright. I just worry about you."

"I know you do." Peter smiled at her, before closing his case. "We should probably leave now if we wanna get there a little early and get our seats on the bus…"

"Right."

So they left, and while Peter was early, he wasn't the first one to arrive. His heart swelled at the sight of Mr Beck with a large black case and grey joggers on. He smiled at him, receiving a wave in return before he headed over to Ned.

Once they'd boarded the bus, Peter had chosen to sit beside MJ as Ned was with Betty for the journey. It was like that for the plane journey too, which was mildly uncomfortable but at least he had MJ's company. Every so often, he could feel eyes on him and he glanced up to find Quentin's eyes watching him for a moment, before they flicked away and landed on someone else. Perhaps it was just his spidey-sense going off, but he felt as though the man had been watching him more recently.

_Or maybe it was because he was a teacher and it was his job._

Regardless, Peter lapped up the attention, unable himself to stop gazing at Quentin's hair from behind.

And then, he got a wicked idea and he shocked himself by even having the balls to go through with it.

When he felt Quentin's eyes on him again, he got up quickly and rushed into the bathroom, making sure that the man had been watching him. He closed the door quickly and sat on the seat of the toilet, waiting. Maybe he was taking advantage of Quentin's good nature? But Peter so desperately craved the man's attention that he just couldn't stop himself.

Quentin had watched Peter bolt to the bathroom and immediately grew concerned. He glanced back at MJ, who wasn't looking at him, before getting up to talk to her.

"Hey, is Peter alright? I don't think I've ever seen someone run into a bathroom so quick before. Is he sick?"

"He said he didn't feel well so I said to go to the bathroom, because I didn't want him to make a mess all over the seats." She said bluntly, and despite his concern Quentin chuckled at her response.

"Okay, thank you for telling me." He headed back to his own seat, but when Peter didn't come back out after five minutes, he felt he had to go and check he was alright.

Peter soon heard a knock on the bathroom door and almost smiled to himself.

"Peter? It's Quentin. Are you sick?" Quentin asked, quietly, not wanting to draw unwanted attention to the pair.

"A little." Peter replied, and he wasn't being e_ntirely _untruthful; he did feel little nauseous, but not enough to actually make him throw up. Beck need not know that, though.

"You know if you are, you'll have to come and sit at the front with me or Mr Harrington." Quentin told him.

Peter couldn't help the grin that spread across his face, and the pang of excitement in his gut. He didn't answer for a moment, for emphasis, before replying again. "Do I have to?"

"You know you do, Peter."

Another moment of silence, and Peter spoke again. "Okay."

"Want me to give you a minute?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, kid."

Peter turned a bit pink at the name, deciding he liked it. A lot. Eventually he flushed the toilet and came out, and apparently he _did _look ill because Quentin looked worried when he locked eyes with him.

"Hey, you alright?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine." Peter promised him, going back to his seat to get a few things and ignoring MJ's expression that screamed _I know what you're up to. _He gave her a puzzled look, before heading back towards the front again and taking a seat next to Quentin as Mr Harrington already had a student beside him with a bag in his lap. Quentin passed one to Peter, who politely declined, but he made him take it from him regardless. "I'll be _fine._" He assured him, putting the bag on his lap.

"I didn't know superheroes got travel sick." Quentin said quietly, giving him a dubious look.

"Well, spiders with not much experience flying do." Peter replied, not untruthfully as they hit a small amount of turbulence and his stomach rolled. "But I'll be fine…" He said, more trying to reassure himself than Quentin. It wasn't as if he actually _wanted _to get sick on the plane; he just wanted an excuse to be near Quentin for the next seven hours. Even though he wasn't sure if Quentin knew that or not. He hadn't exactly been subtle with his fondness for the man. But who could blame him? Being around the man made him feel light-headed and giddy, and he'd missed that feeling; he liked his friends, sure, but it just wasn't the same euphoria as when Quentin was with him. And Beck seemed to really care about him, even if it was his job. Peter felt like they were connecting, despite not knowing much about the man other than he was a single bisexual that practised hypnotherapy. He planned to change that though, especially during the course of their trip. People would probably call him a teacher's pet, but he'd been called worse before and it just rolled off him.

A few hours into the trip, a trolley came round offering snacks and drinks. Peter politely declined as he still felt a little uneasy, but Quentin spoke over him and ordered some water and chips for Peter, and a soft drink for himself. Peter wanted to argue, but he was so hungry he just let him. Thanking him, Peter took a few sips of the water, feeling Quentin's intense stare on him again. He tried to ignore it, and put the water down.

"You need to drink more than that, Pete. You would've lost a lot of fluids when you were vomiting and you need to replace them."

"No, it's okay-" Peter started earnestly, but he was interrupted.

"Drink." The word left Beck's lips sternly and cogently. His blue eyes were steely and trained on his, a warning flash of authority passing through them. They _begged _Peter to test him; after all, he was still his teacher and Peter had to do what he was told.

A slight tug in Peter's core made his face heat up a little at that. It wasn't exactly an _order_, but it turned him on regardless. Quentin's voice was low and commanding, enough to make Peter lift the water back up and take a few more sips. He didn't stop until Quentin nodded for him to, and then he put the bottle on the tray in front of him.

"Good boy."

At that, Peter was sure his dick was rock solid in his pants. He said nothing though, smiling weakly at the praise and glancing away, hoping he hadn't noticed his stiffness.

The rest of the flight was uneventful; Quentin asked him if he was feeling any better a couple of times and Peter nodded affirmatively. Peter also learned that Quentin was into sci-fi movies and took up drawing in his free time (though only occasionally). Quentin lived in a two-bedroom house a little while away from school, with a large pool that he regularly swam in. Peter made a mental note of that. Both of his parents had died and he and his sister had been placed into foster care. They were separated young, and he had not been able to get into contact with her. Peter noted the man seemed lonely; without any family, and by the seems of it not a lot of friends outside of school, it would explain why Beck had dedicated his life to helping other kids having a hard time. It melted Peter's heart really, and he took his hand into his while he was talking, which took the other man by surprise.

"I'm really, really grateful for you doing this, Quentin." Peter told him honestly. "I was at my lowest, and nobody was able to bring me out of it except you. Without you, I'd probably still be starving myself and having nightmares. I don't do that anymore." He made sure to add.

Beck smiled warmly at Peter, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "I'm glad I was able to help, Peter. And I'm glad I met you; you're a quirky, interesting kid. Plus, it's fun knowing I helped Spider-Man find his way again." He winked, letting go of Peter's hand. Peter deflated a little from the lack of contact. He just wanted to hold him a little longer…

At one point during the journey, Peter was certain Beck fell asleep; his eyes were closed, mouth slightly agape and he was breathing deeply. Peter couldn't help but watch his chest rise with every breath he took; everything about the man was so mesmerising, that he couldn't help himself. Longingly, he listened to the man's steady heart beat as he slept. A tiny, minuscule amount of drool was settled in the corner of his lips, and Peter craved so desperately to wipe it away with his fingers; but he didn't want to wake him up. Plus, how could he explain his fingers on his lips if he was to wake? His train of thought was heading into dangerous territory.

They soon landed in Venice, and Peter reluctantly watched Quentin leave him to deal with Mr Harrington. When he left the plane, he felt MJ nudge into him with his shoulder.

"Hey, sicknote. I saw you giving heart eyes to Mr Beck-" Peter spluttered in protest, but she talked over him. "You need to cool it, or other people will notice. Especially him - he picks up on everything. Be careful." She told him, giving him a hard stare before heading off to luggage collection.

Once they'd got their cases back, they hopped on a bus and Peter sat beside MJ again. He had a few questions he wanted to ask her.

"How obvious is it?"

"Well, if someone actually cared about you enough to look up at you, they'd probably notice." _Ouch. _

"So … Bad?"

"Bad. I know he's hot, but he's a teacher and you need to chill out a little. Especially if we're in Europe for two weeks - he'll pick up on it. Plus, we're not here for you to seduce your counsellor - we're here to sightsee! Oh, and two weeks off school."

Peter grinned at that, and put his head down for the rest of the journey.

It wasn't long before they arrived at their villa, and astonished would be an understatement. Their property was _huge; _it was right beside the ocean, with access to their own private beach. It was 1km long, with white sand and crystal waters. There were a few stores nearby, but they weren't right in the heart of Venice; so it was pretty closed off for their privacy. Everyone immediately piled in to choose bedrooms, and Peter's group ended up with a room on the first floor (complete with balcony). They left Betty and Ned to share the double, and he and MJ took the single beds. After unpacking their things for the next few days, they headed downstairs again to meet their teachers and students.

It was decided they needed to go grocery shopping as they'd be eating in for a couple of the days. Peter (being the teacher's pet he was) offered to go with Mr Beck to pick up some bits and pieces, along with MJ and a couple of other girls who were swooning after the teacher. Everyone else headed down to the beach to go swimming, and Mr Harrington stayed to keep an eye on them.

Th nearest store was a ten minute walk away, so it wasn't too far if they ever needed to run and get some things. Quentin asked what their preferred meals would be, and they decided on chicken alfredo one night and pizza for the other. They also picked up snacks and drinks for in the mean time, including a lot of water (Peter's mind went back to Quentin's expression earlier on in the plane and his mouth immediately went dry…), and some basic necessities like bread and milk. After they'd paid, Peter offered to help Quentin carry the groceries (what with his enhanced strength and all) and they took it back to the villa to put away. The two girls, who hadn't been much use at all during the trip, seemingly vanished the second they got back and left MJ and Peter to help Beck put the shopping away.

"I can put this away guys, go get changed and get in the ocean!"

"No, it's okay! We don't mind helping." Peter was quick to argue, but MJ elbowed him, hard.

"Trust me, I'll be alright. I'll see you out there in a bit."

Hesitantly, Peter turned on his heel and followed MJ back to their room to change. They talked for a little while beforehand, discussing what they planned to do while they were in Venice. MJ mentioned a food festival she'd read about before they'd arrived and a Gondola ride they'd most likely be taken on. Peter admitted he'd only really thought about spending time with Quentin and going swimming, which made MJ shake her head and laugh.

Out of courtesy, he went into the bathroom to give her some privacy, but when he returned she told him that he was her best friend; he didn't need to leave the room so she could change. 'It was only genitals'.

"Right." Peter had replied, cheeks a little pink.

"Plus, you're gay."

"Okay I get the point…!" Peter glowered a little, noticing how much MJ was enjoying berating him, and he headed downstairs. He was so lost in his own thoughts, that he actually managed to round the corner and walk directly into Quentin; as if he'd had a bucket of ice water tipped over his head, Peter jumped (way higher than he should've, but at least Quentin wouldn't question it) back in surprise. Then just as quickly as it had happened, his face was on fire as Quentin grabbed his wrists, totally free of all his clothing minus a pair of black swimshorts. Peter seriously struggled to tear his eyes off of Quentin's rock solid torso, but not before noticing his dark chest hair that led to his happy trail and into his-

"I'm sorry!" Peter blurted out, Quentin's hands on his wrists like fire on ice. He forced his eyes upward to glance at Beck, who was grinning coyly at him.

"You seem very on edge, Peter."

"I'm fine, it's just - new country, surroundings and stuff. And you made me jump. Sorry."

Quentin was still grinning at him, eyes trained on Peter's. "Maybe this vacation will do you some good then? It'll be good for you to get some vitamin d, hm?" He teased lightly, eyes glimpsing over Peter's pale skin for a moment; they flickered back up to Peter's now scarlet expression, and he let go of his wrists.

"Uh huh." Peter replied, very aware of how pasty his own complexion was in comparison to Quentin's bronzed skin. MJ's footsteps surfaced behind him, and he quickly ducked round the corner while Quentin was distracted, not fond of the embarrassing situation and wanting to leave immediately. He quickly found Ned playing volleyball with Betty on the beach front outside, and stood at the sidelines watching. It was almost pitiful to watch Ned drop every single ball that came his way; but Betty clearly didn't mind, and that made Peter smile. When MJ met them out there, they paired up into teams. Peter was almost tempted to use his advantage, but with how poorly-coordinated Ned was, he didn't have to. He let MJ do most of the work, and she could've beat the pair of them alone if she wanted to.

That was how they spent the rest of the afternoon, taking occasional dips in the water to cool off after a heavy game. At one point Quentin came over to watch them play (which made Peter a little self-conscious, but gave him all the more reason to flaunt himself for the man) and at the end of their game, he chucked them all a water bottle from a cooler he'd brought out, telling them to drink it all because he 'didn't want anyone to get dehydrated'. Peter felt his eyes burning into the back of his head though, and he purposefully turned around and chugged half the bottle while he was looking his way. Quentin flashed him a satisfied look, before heading off again to pass water bottles around to everyone that might've forgotten to hydrate themselves during the excitement. It went straight to Peter's dick.

As it had been a long day and everyone was jetlagged and exhausted, the teachers decided to order a takeout to the villa, including a variety of fresh Italian pizzas and sides. The majority of the students ate on the beach (Mr Harrington had made it very clear for everyone to bring their trash back inside and not leave _anything _on the front), but Peter and MJ sat on the patio outside the villa at the dining table, Mr Beck at the beach with the students and Mr Harrington inside. Again they talked for a while, Peter managing to scarf down an entire meat feat pizza to himself and starting to help himself to MJ's. Once they'd finished eating they sat in comfortable silence, watching the sky become enameled with orange hues as the sun drifted lower. The calescent heat exhausted into a pleasant cool, encouraging goosebumps to prickle Peter's forearms. It wasn't long before the sky was a marbled purple, an array of incandescent stars dotting the heavens, and the students were heading back inside. After a little while, Quentin poked his head around the glass doors and told them that curfew was at ten; it was just after nine now, so they had plenty of time to talk (or in their case, sit and enjoy each other's company in mutual silence). It wasn't long, however, before they both headed back inside and back to their room; Peter wished everyone (meaning, Mr Beck) goodnight before he went upstairs with MJ, and, drained of energy, fell into a deep sleep the second his head hit the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they're finally in europe! this is the part of the story i've enjoyed writing the most so far, and each country they visit (Italy, France, London & Spain) consists of two chapters and consists of Peter Parker Actually Having A Good Time (to an extent- something always goes wrong, right?) but there's a lot of soft scenes upcoming and plenty more friendly sexual tension between him and Quentin (although i will admit, it is slow burn) so again, thank you to everyone who's been leaving sweet comments because i really really appreciate them and it's really helping me to continue with this fic so i owe it to you <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin catches Peter in a ... Sticky situation.

The next day was uneventful (for the most part). Mr Harrington told the students that they had planned, as MJ had foreseen, a Gondola ride for the day after, so they were to spend today how they pleased. Ned, Betty and MJ all decided to go into town but Peter wasn't really up for exploring; he knew he'd get plenty of time for that tomorrow. So while Mr Harrington took a few students off the property, Peter stayed behind with a few stragglers, monitored by Quentin. The man seemed to be mostly sunbathing that day; he had sunscreen on and a book in hand, reading on his front but occasionally glancing up to ensure everything was well. Some people were playing volleyball, no doubt there were a couple of kids having sex inside, and Peter just felt the urge to take a dip in the ocean. So he did, making sure not to swim too far out as he was still a little… _Vigilant _after Mason Toomes had dropped him into a lake and he had almost drowned.

The water was chilly against his heated skin, regulating his body temperature as although May was of Italian descent, Peter was not. Plus it was nice to get as good a workout as possible with so many of his students around; after barely moving all day yesterday besides playing volleyball, his muscles had started to tense up and he yearned to stretch them out. Careful no one was watching him (perhaps other than his attentive teacher sparing him a glance every so often), Peter began to swim a little deeper, knowing his limits with his enhanced strength and ensuring he wouldn't get swept up in the current. He'd sensed Quentin's concern over him swimming out so far, but motioned to him that it was alright. Clearly that wasn't enough however, because Beck soon joined him in the water and Peter flushed.

"Peter! I told you not to swim out so far, it's dangerous and I can't have you getting hurt." There was authority in his voice again that made Peter shiver in the water, and it wasn't due to the cold.

"I'm okay, Beck! _Remember?_"

"I don't care, Peter. Come back out now or I'll have to send you inside." There was a look on his face that Peter hadn't seen before, and it actually made his gut clench; Beck looked _angry_, yet concerned.

"Okay but sir, really I'm alright!" Peter swam closer to him dejectedly, guilt written across his expression. "I promise I can handle myself."

"I know you can, but I don’t want anyone getting any ideas. And I don’t want _you _to miscalculate either and get overwhelmed; because I know if you can't handle it, none of us are going to be able to help you, either. And there isn't going to be much I can do about it if Mr Harrington tries to rescue you, which is _both of our responsibilities' _so I'd appreciate it if you did as you were told."

_Ouch. _

Peter flinched at the tone in Quentin's voice; he'd almost forgotten he was a teacher, they'd become so close recently. Or at least he thought they had. It was wrong for him to go against what he'd been told just because Quentin knew about his powers… It's not like he could get away with things other students couldn't just because he was Spider-Man. People would ask questions and probably accuse Beck of having favourites, too. Dejectedly, he watched the man get back out of the water and some of the students looking his way, laughing to each other. Feeling isolated again, he decided to go back to his room in the villa and wait for Ned and MJ to return. While there, he chose to use his time to himself to his advantage and quickly rub one out while no one was around. He hadn't had time with sharing a room and all, and now seemed as good as ever to let out some pent-up stress. Even though Quentin had just showed him up in front of everyone and practically crushed his schoolboy-heart, Peter's cock seemed interested after a couple of tugs and he set himself to work.

Only a couple of minutes in, however, with an erection in his hand, there was a knock on the door and Quentin's voice floated in. "Peter?"

"Just a second!" Peter's face heated up immediately. There was a porn video on his phone that he had been listening to without earphones assuming no one would interrupt him, and his dick was ready to shoot. Panickedly, he quickly tugged his pants back up and yanked his sheets over his lower body before Quentin opened the door. Looking flushed and sweaty, Peter gave him an awkward smile, hoping he'd just assume it was from the heat.

"Hey, I'm sorry for shouting earlier…" Quentin shut the door behind him and came into the room, clearly wanting to talk for a little while. Peter shifted uncomfortably in his bed. "I could hear people talking and I didn't want them to think that… You know, they could get away with stuff if you could."

Peter blinked. "Oh… I'm sorry for not taking you seriously, Beck… I just thought-"

"I know. I should've clarified. I just didn't want to risk anything or any_one _so it seemed like the best option. I didn't mean to upset you." He sat down on the bed beside Peter, not mentioning the way he shifted away from him.

"What? You didn't upset me?"

"Then why are you up here?" Quentin asked, frowning.

"I'm… Napping?"

The man looked him up and down, noticing the way the sheets were pulled over his lower half. He said nothing though. "Oh." He couldn't help but raise his eyebrows, and a ghost of a smirk crossed his lips.

"No- it's not."

"No?"

"No!"

"You sure?"

"Yes! I'm sure!" Peter was bright red at this point, sitting up straight and keeping his hand on top of his crotch _thank you very much. _Quentin seemed amused, although Peter was not.

"I seem to keep finding you in awkward situations, Peter…"

"I'm not-" Peter groaned and slumped against his bed, covering his face with his hands. "Please leave."

"Sorry, was I interrupting someth-"

"Please…!" Peter almost shouted, ever so slightly humiliated. The man chuckled lightly, patting Peter's shoulder and getting to his feet again. He ignored the expression on Peter's face.

"Alright. Enjoy your 'nap'." With that, he left the room again and closed the door.

Peter couldn't believe Beck had made him come into his boxers untouched from a pat on the shoulder.

\--

That night, Mr Harrington and a few students had prepared Chicken Alfredo for dinner. That would've been sweet, if Beck hadn't kept casting knowing glances Peter's way while they were eating. Although he was _loving _Beck's eyes being all over him, Peter couldn't help but feel embarrassed at the man walking in on him jerking off; and, with how he was eyeing Peter up over his pasta, Peter couldn't help but think _he knew he'd made him come. _The man had said nothing to him though, spare for the occasional stare when no one else was looking. Peter didn't blush, but kept his eyes averted for the most part of the meal, feeling MJ's watchful eyes flickering between him and Beck. After eating, a few of them decided to take a late night swim, Mr Harrington yelling after them to remind them of their curfew. Peter joined Betty, Ned, MJ and the others in the sea, allowing his mind to drift from Quentin for perhaps the first time since they'd arrived; one of the students shoved Flash's head under the water and Peter briefly remembered his dream before they left, and he shared his humour with MJ. It was starting to get dark again now, sunset breaking the sky's surface effortlessly.

"So what happened with you and Beck today?"

MJ didn't miss a trick.

"He…" Peter hesitated, not wanting to be crude about the situation. But MJ was as blunt as they come, and by the seems of it nothing could ever be too much for her. If anything, she'd probably laugh in his face. "I was… You know… And he knocked on the door and came in, and I hadn't had much time to… _Cover up._"

"He caught you naked?"

"No…! Just… My bottom half, but it was under the sheets."

"Oh. Gross." MJ grinned at Peter's embarrassed expression, but ushered him on. "Did he realise?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm just worried…"

"That what?"

"That he knows when he touched my shoulder I… You know."

"You blew your load because he touched you? Oh man, you've no shortage of hormones."

"MJ…!" Peter flushed pink at that, shoving her underwater. "I don't know if he knows!"

"By those smirks, I'd say he knows. Were you all…?" MJ closed her eyes and let out a crude, drawn out_, exaggerated _moan, enough to make Peter bolt forward and cover her mouth. A few people looked over their way, Quentin, who happened to be out on the patio, included.

"No! It wasn't like that!" He said sharply, pulling his hand away as he felt her grinning against his fingers.

"I'd still say he knows."

"_Fuck._"

MJ chuckled to herself at Peter's misfortune, splashing his face with a wave of water.

"You're such a bitch." Peter spat, splashing her back but with more force.

"I know."

He finally laughed, shaking his head and brushing his wet hair out of his eyes. MJ did the same. Ned and Betty swam back over to them a little while later, asking what all the noise was about. MJ didn't miss a beat and told them Peter had been jacking off while they were out, but spared the details for his sake. He was grateful. Betty was disgusted. They both decided to head in before the others, giggling and running back to their room when Mr Harrington yelled after them for getting the floor wet. The Gondola ride was at eleven the next day, so they had to get enough sleep to be up early enough to get to town. Not that they'd be getting much of that, but the thought was there.

Betty and Ned came running into the room just after half ten after being scolded by Quentin for trying to hide to stay out after curfew. They were giggling hysterically, but apparently the counsellor didn't seem amused as he stuck his head round the door. "Next time when I say curfew, I _mean _curfew, alright?" His voice was deadly serious and it almost scared Peter a little; he certainly didn't want to get on his bad side. Quentin was usually so relaxed so Betty and Ned must've really pushed him for him to get so cold all of a sudden. He nodded to MJ, who was chilling on her bed in shorts and a cropped pajama shirt, and rose his eyebrows at Peter for a moment, who suddenly felt the need to cover up, before heading closing the door behind him. Peter felt MJ's eyes burning into the side of his head, but ignored them.

"_What did you do?_" He asked the second the door was closed, slightly concerned by their teacher's bad mood.

"Nothing…!" Ned protested, still hysterically laughing with Betty beside him.

"We swam really far out and tried to hide so we could stay longer," Betty giggled, ignoring Peter's frown. "And he got like, really pissed. God, he's such a killjoy."

Peter felt himself grow hot at Betty's words, but swallowed down his defensive response, instead saying "but there's a curfew for a reason! What if something had happened?"

"Don't be boring, Pete. Nothing would've happened."

"You could drown and die." MJ stated before Peter could reply, and he decided that was good enough.

"Ugh, whatever." Betty got up and started to undress, so Peter rolled onto his side on the bed and rolled his eyes. "Anyway, we could always sneak out."

"Bad move." MJ told her, not bothering to look up as she spoke. "The guy barely sleeps. He's always up super early, too. He'd know. Then you'd be in even more trouble." Peter glanced at her incredulously, before she added: "He told me once. Also he likes to swim early in the morning. I'm observant."

Ned huffed and got into bed. "This is so boring."

"No it's not, Ned, you just need to follow like the only rules that are in place. It's not that hard to _not _sneak around behind your teachers' back." Peter shot back at his friend, pissed off with his attitude towards probably the most _relaxed _teacher they could ever bring. Plus, Tony had paid for this entire vacation and Peter wasn't ready to sit there and listen to Ned criticise it because his dumb girlfriend didn't wanna listen to the only rules they had.

"Whatever, Peter." Ned's reply was curt, and nothing more was said.

The four of them went to bed tense that night, clearly all annoyed with each other for different reasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you guys believe I have one more chapter to write before this story is finished... :') i almost don't wanna let it go. this is the first fanfiction i've ever completed, and it's so long and emotional and just - wow. it's been incredible. the finished product should be just over 50k words, and there'll be nineteen chapters once it's finished. it is a happy ending, too! so don't worry about any sudden twists because it is (for the best part) just a lot of fluff and smut because peter deserves happiness, ok? ok. thank you guys again for sticking with me and for the kind comments, without your support i never would've got this far so i do appreciate every single person who's supported me with this fic <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beck gets a little hands-on with Peter while everyone else is asleep.

Peter was thankful he hadn't cried out.

When he woke, he was drenched in sweat, all the way through his pajamas. His hair was damp with it, chocolate curls clinging to the pool at the base of his neck. There were dry tears mingling with sweat, face sticky with it. It took a few moments for Peter to catch his breath, slowing his breathing down with effort, and his heart rate returned to normal. Silently, Peter slipped out of his bed and grabbed his phone; it was only five a.m., so hopefully no one else would be awake yet. Hoping that it would clear his mind, Peter sleepily headed down the stairs and towards the chairs by the pool. He was checking his notifications as he walked, and when he glanced up he noticed a figure in the pool. It was too late to turn around and go the other direction though, apparently, because Quentin turned around before he could even move and frowned.

"Peter. You're up early." At first, he offered a smile, but then he saw the tear-streaks dried to his face and it faltered. "Have you been crying?"

If Peter hadn't been so emotionally shattered from his restless dream, he definitely would've been eyeing up Quentin's physique. As much as his hormonal body would've liked him to, however, Peter simply shook his head. "Since we've been away, I haven't really been able to, you know, talk to you?" Peter started hesitantly, and he noted the way Quentin's demeanour shifted; the man stood up in the pool and focused his entire attention to Peter, starting toward him.

"Do you wanna join me? We can talk and swim if you like."

Peter shook his head again, as he wasn't really dressed for the situation. But then he realised he was all gross and sweaty; Quentin probably thought he could use a shower, and he would be right. "I don't know…"

"Come on, water's good for soothing anxiety." Quentin pressed.

"Not when a man with wings drops you into a lake and you nearly drown." Peter meant it as a joke, but Quentin visibly tensed.

"Oh, I'm sorry Peter…"

"No! No, don't apologise!" Peter said quickly, glancing around awkwardly. He bit his lip, ignoring the blush creeping onto his cheeks before pulling off his shirt and pajama shorts. Luckily he hadn't gone commando, and was wearing a pair of tight black boxer shorts. Although something he hadn't noticed was the angry burns across his shoulders and back, which apparently Quentin had.

"Hey, have you been using suncream? You're burned up!" Tears forgotten, Quentin was even more concerned about the raw skin across Peter's shoulders. "Peter, you're not taking care of yourself."

"I am!" Peter said quickly, not wanting to disappoint him. "I just… Burn easily." That part was true. Quentin frowned at him dubiously, and then climbed out of the pool. Peter did then notice the way that Quentin's shorts clung around his crotch, and he looked away sharply, not wanting to give himself any more problems. With a motion of his hands for Peter to follow, Beck went inside the villa.

"Turn around." He told him, after retrieving a bottle of aloe vera from a drawer. When Peter hesitated, he added: "it'll take the sting off of your shoulders. Trust me."

"Okay…" Peter turned around slowly, his body tense. When a cold liquid was doused on his shoulders he gasped, but soon there were hands on them and he shuddered.

_Oh, that felt nice._

Quentin's hands were skilled, not pressing too hard on his sore skin but applying enough pressure to almost draw out a moan from Peter's lips; he was quick to close them before it escaped, but he had to close his eyes as Beck's fingers worked into his shoulders. They pressed in a little harder at the nape of his neck, and Peter swallowed down a groan, biting down hard on his lip and releasing a hard exhale.

"Does that feel better?" Quentin asked, lips so close to Peter's ear that he felt chills run down his spine at the question. Unable to trust his mouth, he nodded, releasing another shaky exhale. "What's bothering you, kid?"

Slowly, Peter opened his eyes again. He could've sworn he was seeing stars from how good Quentin felt, and he was dangerously hard in his boxers; if anyone came into the room now, he'd be toast. "I'd just been doing so well," Peter started, surprised his voice was relatively steady with Quentin's fingers still massaging into his shoulders. "And I hadn't had a nightmare in so long, and last night I had another and it was just… Lucky, I guess? That I didn't scream like I usually did. I'm not sure why I didn't."

"Do you want to talk about the dream?"

"No." Peter gasped sharply when Quentin's thumbs pressed into a knot deep between his shoulder blades, feeling the tightness melt away under his fingers. "Yes. It was just… Just drowning again. From Toomes. I don't know why but…" He trailed off.

"You're really tense." Quentin stated the obvious, before pulling his hands away once the aloe vera was thoroughly rubbed into his skin. "You know, it's normal to have nightmares. I have them, so do a lot of people. It's actually uncommon to not experience them." When Peter turned around to face him again, Quentin scratched his chin thoughtfully. "You're doing so well, Peter. With everything you've been through, I can't expect you to never have a nightmare again; it is just our brain's way of dealing with trauma. Perhaps something that happened yesterday could've triggered your memory of what happened with Toomes and your brain felt you hadn't properly processed it yet."

"I think it was yesterday, when…" Peter paled a little, but Quentin coerced him on gently. "Well, when you got mad at me… I don't know, I just hadn't felt upset like that for a little while and maybe it just… I don't know, did something to my brain." Peter stopped talking, knowing he wasn't making any sense at all. Quentin's downcast expression created a solid weight in his stomach, and he looked away guiltily.

"I'm sorry." Quentin said again, words laced with regret. "I had to, though Peter…"

"I know…! I'm sorry I put you in that position."

"It's fine." Quentin grinned at him a little, and Peter smiled back, the astriction between them melting away like hot butter. "But I think you're handling yourself really well, Pete. All things considered. It'll take time. You'll get there." With a reassuring smile, Quentin held his arms out for Peter, who took no time in accepting the embrace. Despite the cooling water that still glazed his skin, Quentin's body was warm, inviting. Peter's head rested against his bare chest, the hair there tickling his ear only slightly. Quentin's arms enveloped him in consolation, providing a soft barrier between Peter's doubts and his headspace. He held onto him tightly, squeezing him gently as he felt a tremour against him and a warm wetness on his chest. "Hey, it's okay…"

"I know. I know." Peter quickly wiped it away with his free hand, another tear sliding into its place when Quentin's hand came to rest on his head, smoothing his damp hair back and gently scratching his scalp with his fingertips. That earned a soft mewl from Peter before he could silence it.

_Wow, he really knew what to do with those hands._

Peter became very hyper-aware of the tent in his boxers, and was relieved to discover it _wasn't _pressing into Quentin's leg like he thought it was. That would've been the icing on the cake and he probably would've just left immediately; he didn't have the capacity to handle that sort of embarrassment right that second. After a couple of moments, Peter pulled away from Quentin and went to wipe his eyes again. His counsellor beat him to it, though, his thumb gently swiping under his right eye. There was a compassionate expression on his face.

"Thank you…" Peter had a wavering smile on his face now, and he let out a hard sigh. "That feels better."

"I'm glad to hear." Quentin said warmly, motioning again for Peter to follow him back to the pool. "You coming in? Or are you thinking sea?"

"I'll come in!" Peter said quickly, remembering the hardness between his legs. If Quentin had noticed anything, he had spared him today; Peter wasn't sure if he could deal with the teasing at that moment in time. He was already embarrassed enough. He gave Quentin, who had already slipped back into the water, a nervous smile, before stepping lightly into the pool. It was soothing on his burning skin, the water taking most of the weight of his body off of his shoulders. Peter closed his eyes for a moment, allowing what strain Quentin hadn't managed to get out of his body to slowly diminish. It felt good.

The two swam in comfortable silence, before Peter had an idea.

"Do you wanna see me do a flip?"

Quentin blinked and turned around at the sudden question. "What? Is that safe?" Was his first response, unsure of Peter's definition of 'safe'.

"I'm Spider-Man, dude! Watch!"

Peter had never been able to show off his skills to any of his friends or family before, especially where anyone could've seen him. But now he had the perfect opportunity to show Beck what he was capable of, so he climbed out of the pool (thankful that his erection had gone down again) and took a few steps back from it before Quentin could argue.

"Don't you dare injure yourself or I'm gonna have to cover for you." Beck grinned, heading over to the side of the pool out of Peter's way.

"I'll be fine." Peter positioned himself, before breaking into a flat out run and launching himself into the air, pirouetting and landing into the water with a huge _splash. _He came up for air, beaming at his counsellor who just stared at him in shock.

"Oh my god!" Quentin was mesmerised, a large grin cracking across his face. "That's insane!"

"Right?" Peter got out of the pool again, feeling Quentin's eyes following him back out. "I'm sticky, too!"

Quentin couldn't help but raise his eyebrows at the word choice, and Peter blushed at his expression.

"Wait- I mean like, hold on I-" He cut himself off, still red, before jumping several feet into the air again. When his hands hit the roof above the doors, he stuck perfectly to it, hanging upside down like… Well, like a spider. He was still grinning ecstatically at Quentin, who was staring at him dumbfounded. 

"How are you just- stuck like that?" He asked, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

"Spider bite." Peter shrugged, before the door underneath him opened and he seized up. Not missing a beat, Quentin had looked away from Peter and to the source of distraction, spotting Mr Harrington.

"Morning." Quentin offered, keeping his eyes well away from Peter but ensuring he could see him out of the corner of them. He was still clinging to the wall, well out of Mr Harrington's sight. "Why are you up so early?"

"Well we've got the Gondola ride today so I guessed we should probably make a plan of what's happening." Mr Harrington said, a little nonchalantly.

"That… Would be a good idea, yes? Do we not have a plan?"

"Not really."

Quentin had to bite back a laugh, and he shook his head. "Alright. I'll be in in a sec." When Mr Harrington nodded and headed back inside, Quentin's gaze returned to Peter's upside-down figure. "That was ridiculously tense."

Peter nodded and grinned. "Told you I'm sticky."

"Whatever, kid." Quentin was chuckling now, and he slowly climbed back out of the pool. "I'd suggest coming back inside in a second and saying you went to the ocean for a swim. I can cover for you, if you like?"

"Thanks, Beck." Peter replied gratefully, slowly un-sticking from the wall and landing on his feet gracefully.

"Any time." Quentin flashed him a grin, before heading inside again. It wasn't long before Peter followed after, sticking to his story and being ushered upstairs to go and get ready with the others. When he returned to his room everyone was awake, and MJ shot him a perceptive glance before going back to changing. He didn't have long to shower and dress, but luckily Peter had never took long at those and he was still ready before Betty. She was only halfway through her makeup routine when Peter headed downstairs and met Quentin's eyes, looking a lot fresher than he had done before from crying and sweating. When everyone was dressed and ready, they left for Castello.

\--

The day was mostly spent eating and sightseeing; the Gondola ride was good, until Flash attempted to push Peter into the water. Unfortunately for him, Peter's… _Tingle, _had alerted him of the incoming threat and he'd dodged his hands. Peter flashed him a look that simply said _what the fuck is your problem?_, but to his delight Quentin had glanced over just at the right time; Flash had received an earful from the counsellor, his expression stormy for the rest of the day. Peter, on the other hand, was feeling particularly smug, and flashed Quentin an appreciative grin. The man winked in return when no one else was looking.

After the Gondola ride, they split off into their groups to explore; Peter and MJ separated from Betty and Ned after lunch, and the pair headed to Chiesa di San Zaccaria for the better part of the afternoon. It wasn't long before they were walking back to their villa, stomachs full of pasta and tiramisu from dinner. Most people were exhausted from the trip to Castello, but Peter's thoughts were elsewhere.

Whilst the rest of his roommates went for a swim before bed, Peter retired to the bathroom. Only minutes after stepping into the shower, warm water soothing his aching muscles, the image of Quentin from this morning burned hot and fresh into his mind. Especially the fabric wrapped tightly around his groin, clinging to him from where the water had soaked through them. As vividly as if he was stood centimetres away, the droplets of water decorating his golden skin close enough to lick; Quentin's physique was godlike, and the water only emphasised the contours of his muscles. Perhaps he was Poseidon in disguise? Fuck, for all Peter knew he could be - after all, Loki and Thor were no more mythological than radio-active spiders swinging around Queens.

That settled it. Quentin was Poseidon. Would that make Peter Nerites?

Almost on cue, Peter's dick twitched to life against his thigh.

Then, he remembered his hands.

The way they'd pressed so effortlessly into his shoulders, rubbing all of the right places. How tiny electric shocks had prickled his shoulders when their skin came into contact, sizzling beautifully with the most microscopic of touches. Peter would never understand how he didn't blow his load the second Beck's hands were on him, especially as the last time he touched him Peter had came all over the sheets on his bed. But who could blame him, especially after jerking himself off to the thought of Beck's dick -

Beck would be good with his fingers, Peter thought. After all, if he could give a massage good enough to give someone an erection, there had to be … _Other _ways he could use his hands. Peter liked to imagine he gave good handjobs, not having too firm a grip on his cock to hurt, but applying enough pressure to elicit a loud moan despite his best efforts to hold it back. Quentin was strong, hard; he'd stroke up Peter's dick with just enough force to bring him to the brink of orgasm before sharply pulling away, intensifying the final release as a result of it. Peter had never penetrated himself before, and he wasn't even sure if he'd like it - but he did know that Quentin would go easy on him, ensuring he was properly prepared and stretched out with those expert fingers. And he liked to think it would feel _good_, that Beck would find his sweet spot and have at it until Peter was a writhing, trembling mess underneath him.

His hand was on his cock now, instinctively. Beck was clouding his thoughts, strangling his sanity with his good looks and soft nature. God fucking damnit, Peter was falling so fucking hard it wasn't even funny. Peter had come on this trip to sight-see Europe, and here he was head-over-heels in love with his counsellor and spending his days trying to win his attention. It was pathetic.

And still, Peter bit back a groan as he spilled his seed into his hand, coming with Beck's face painted in his mind. It washed away with the rest of the water, and Peter was left with the aftermath.

Oh, he was so far gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that summary was so suggestive i'm not even sorry hahahaha
> 
> also i did do some(!) research into the european countries they're visiting, but i'm not too good geographically and i've never been to italy before so really i was just guessing :'( i'm sure i got london pretty spot on though seeing as it's my favourite place on earth to go >:) 
> 
> not to be nsfw but i would purposefully burn my tits just so quentin beck would rub aloe vera into them i-


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MJ and Peter start to grow closer after Peter experiences a night terror.

Before he knew it, Peter was in France. They'd been there for a couple of days now, visiting little chocolate factories and historical landmarks. They'd gone on a river dinner cruise, and Peter couldn't help but think of how romantic the entire night had been; granted, he'd barely spoken to Quentin because, obviously, he was his teacher. But he couldn't help but fantasise about bringing him back one day, once he'd left school. That was if Quentin ever felt the same way about him which, he doubted. But hey, a boy could dream right?

For the time being, he just liked to imagine. Ignoring the nagging voice in the back of his head was so much easier when he was around, and Peter enjoyed his company more than anyone else's; Beck was just overall a pleasant person to be in company with. Unlike Mr Harrington, Peter could hold a conversation with Quentin. And instead of answering shortly, apathetically, Quentin had genuine interest in what Peter was saying. There was some sort of unspoken bond between the two that teachers and students didn't typically share, and Peter was so grateful that they did. It was also clear that Quentin wasn't just like this with every student he met; no, there were plenty of students who disliked him for reasons Peter couldn't name. But Quentin was more of a friend to him than an authority figure. He felt he could trust the man with his life, and he wouldn't be let down. With Ned, it was unreliable, and MJ didn't even know he was Spider-Man. But Beck… He was just different. Peter had never met anyone like him, other than maybe Tony. Because Tony too had cared about Peter, and wanted the best for him. Hell, he was the only person other than May who had expressed concerns about his wellbeing, asking if he was eating and sleeping okay, if school was okay, if _Peter _was okay. When Tony died, he'd lost that; but Beck was beginning to fill the void Tony had left with Peter, slowly but surely. His small 'how are you feeling today?' and 'did you sleep well?'s were sand grains in an hourglass, and Peter was ready for the glass to fill, for the emptiness to disappear. Plenty of people could call him names for being so attached to him, but they could never begin to imagine why Peter was so captivated.

Except Flash, of course, who was beginning to hate Quentin just as much as he hated Peter. Perhaps because since Peter had expressed his emotions after Flash's taunts that day, Quentin had taken a subtle disliking to the student and managed to catch him most times he was berating Peter and give him some stern words. The more Flash chided Peter, the harsher Quentin reprimanded him, until he just stopped altogether. Peter was pretty thankful for it, and it had made the trip more of a liberty.

That was, until there was a news report of a shooting in Long Island City. Peter's phone had blown up with reports about Spider-Man being missing, and immediately he became racked with guilt. He'd been so concerned with having some time off himself, that he'd forgotten to protect his _home. _It was early morning in Paris, still late in Queens, and they'd been eating breakfast when the news came through. Flash was the first to say something, talking about how there was _no way _Spider-Man would leave New York unprotected because he wasn't… In his words, _selfish. _Ned and Peter exchanged glances, and Peter could sense Quentin's eyes on him too but he wasn't sure if he was able to meet them. More notifications came through on Peter's twitter, and it suddenly got too much. Peter excused himself quickly, ignoring Quentin's expression and heading up to his room. Once he was in the safety of his own bathroom, with the door locked, he let the tears fall. He didn't sob, or wail or scream until his lungs were burning. As much as he wanted to, he simply stared shell-shocked at the mirror, watching the tears uncontrollably streak down his cheeks.

How could he be so selfish? Spider-Man was the only person Queens had looking out for them. There was only so much that cops could do, and they wouldn't have been able to stop the shooting.

Only Spider-Man could've done that, but he was too busy chasing a crush on his fucking _guidance counsellor _in Europe to look out for them.

It took everything he had not to lash out, to lose control of his emotions; Peter wanted to cry, to shout and scream and break everything in sight. He was _supposed to be there. _He would've been on patrol, he could've done _something. _He could've stopped this from happening. He was so fucking selfish.

Trembling violently, Peter sat down on the lid of the toilet and held his head in his hands. The tears began to slow, but the aching pain behind his skull had only flared up. With a heavy sigh he closed his eyes and wiped them on his sleeve. It was so dumb, there wouldn't have been anything he could've done… What was the likelihood of him stumbling across the men involved in the shootout and even preventing it? There were some things even Spider-Man couldn't predict. And yet that nagging voice was back again, persistent Peter could've stopped it, but he was too self-centred to think about anyone else. When he heard a knock at the bedroom door, he ignored it, hoping whoever it was would just go away. Unfortunately for him they didn't, and he heard the door knob turn and he was on his feet.

"Peter?"

Of course it was Quentin. For the first time ever, Peter just wanted to be left alone.

"I know you're in here. Don't tell me you're taking a crap or something." Beck's voice was light.

Peter didn't respond immediately, but before he could stop it he sniffled and quickly brought a hand up to his mouth to stifle the sound. Praying Quentin hadn't heard, he remained silent.

"Peter, talk to me… I know you're upset."

"I don't want to." His voice was rough as sandpaper, scratching his throat as he spoke.

"It isn't your fault-"

"Just leave me alone…!" It came out harsher than Peter intended it to, but he'd meant it. He didn't need to embarrass himself _for the hundredth time_ in front of his guidance counsellor. He was sick of crying, sick of being so vulnerable and weak. _Spider-Man wasn't weak. _

"I'm not going anywhere until you unlock the door." Quentin argued stubbornly, rapping on the door with his fist for emphasis. Peter groaned, the situation futile. It reminded him of when Tony had forced him to admit to having a rough time at school one day, even though Peter hadn't wanted to talk about it _at all. _Clearly Quentin wasn't going anywhere, but Peter wasn't ready for this conversation. At all. Before he could stop it, a choked sob left his lips and he put his hand over them again, squeezing his eyes shut. At one point he balled his hand into a fist and bit down onto it as hard as he could, drawing blood from his fingers in an attempt to stop the fucking tears. But it was futile, and more small sobs wracked his body the further time went on. A sliver of blood trickled down his fingers.

"Your friends are gonna be up here soon and wondering why you've locked yourself in the bathroom and won't let me in. Peter, just talk to me. We can't stay like this."

"Fuck…!" Peter finally snapped exasperatedly, finally getting up to unbolt the door. Quentin stood before him, concern etched across his face, and took no time in pulling Peter back out of the room and sitting him down on his bed. "What?"

"I'm worried about you." Quentin insisted, that look still on his face that just made Peter feel angrier.

"I'm fine! I don't want to talk about it!"

"You're hysterical, Peter! Have you seen yourself?"

"I don't care!"

"Yeah, well I do care, Peter! I'm here to make sure you have a good time and I'm not gonna sit and watch you get beside yourself because of something you couldn't have prevented!"

"I could've prevented it though! I could've been there, I would've been on patrol! This vacation is nice but I feel so fucking _useless _because I can't help anybody and people are getting hurt when I could stop it! I just feel so fucking cooped up in here at night because I can't go out, and I can't tell anyone because no one even knows! And then _as usual _I fuck up again and someone else has died because of me-"

"You didn't pull that trigger, Peter! You're allowed a break, you _need _a break, especially with all the stress you've been under because you can't look after _anyone _if you can't look after yourself! I know it's hard, but you can't keep blaming yourself for other people's mistakes-"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Peter suddenly quipped, eyes dangerously dark.

"I didn’t mean it like that-"

"Then how did you mean it?!"

"Don't raise your voice at me Peter, I am still your teacher."

Peter glowered at him, biting back the retort on his tongue knowing the fall-out would be catastrophic. But by god, he was fucking hurting. And Quentin just sat there, trying to tell him it was okay? It wasn't his fault?

He didn't have a clue what he was talking about.

"People's actions have consequences. There's no way for you to predict them, and you can't blame yourself for not being able to prevent them. Peter, you've already done so much more than any of us ever will in our lives. You've been to _space _in order to save the world. Not many people can say they've done the same. So if I were you, I would be so proud of myself, even though I know you can't be because there are still things going on in this world that are sick and twisted but it _does not fall on you to prevent it. _You're a seventeen year old kid from Queens who just wanted to go on vacation! You never signed up for any of this."

The glare on Peter's face had softened again, and he leaned against Quentin's shoulder, closing his eyes. When those arms wrapped around him familiarly, the stress in his body eased off. "'M sorry."

"You don't need to be. Just don't keep it to yourself or it'll hurt more when it does come out."

Peter nodded, releasing a weak exhale. His fists unclenched, and the pounding in his head began to subside. His phone pinged again, but Quentin spoke before he could move.

"Don't. It'll just work you up again."

Peter nodded, pulling away from Quentin and looking away.

"I'm gonna go back downstairs, okay? You don't have to come out today if you don't want to."

"Thank you." Peter gave him a small smile, and glanced at him for a moment.

"You're welcome." Quentin patted his shoulder gently, before leaving the room, and Peter with his thoughts.

They didn't speak much that day, Quentin giving him space as he and a couple of other students stayed in instead of going into the city. Peter had spent the best part of the day fretting about the shooting, and that reflected on his sleep pattern.

The first night had been okay, not the best night's sleep but nothing Peter couldn’t handle.

The next day though, was when Peter finally lost it.

After hours of tossing and turning, trying to even succumb to sleep, Peter was visited again by Toomes. Except despite knowing the consequence of this particular dream, his feet were webbed to the floor with his own fluid. In contempt of all of his best efforts Peter was trapped, staring horrified into Toomes' dark eyes, face grazed with a smirk. Peter barely had time to glance up before he was entombed in rubble, his bones breaking effortlessly from the impact. All he could do was cry out at the pain flooding into his veins, surprised he wasn't dead but still distressed nonetheless. The rubble crushed his body, and Peter was almost literally a spider under a boot. The crunching of bones was deafening amidst his own screams, pained lungs squeezed between his broken spine and ribcage. It was agonising to breathe, but Peter found himself gasping for air as he cried out hysterically, his throat shredded raw from yelling. Dust filled his lungs when he wheezed for breath, suffocating him further to the point where his vision went black.

"Everybody out now!" Quentin was yelling, ushering Peter's roommates out of the bedroom. There were a gathering of students outside the door, but Beck quickly shut it before running over to Peter's side. He was screaming his lungs out; the sheets had become entangled around his body and he thrashed helplessly in them, struggling to get enough air into his lungs as he cried. Peter was begging with what little air he did have in his lungs, _please help me, I can't breathe. _Quentin was wary of his thrashing arms and legs, knowing one kick could knock him clean out especially if Peter was still asleep. All he could do was attempt to untangle the screaming kid from the sheets, let him breathe. He was suffocating in them. "Peter, I need you to wake up! It's just a nightmare, you're okay you're safe please, please wake up!" Quentin was almost begging him, battling with the sheets constricting around Peter's throat. "Peter, wake up!" It took longer than he'd hoped for, but eventually he managed to pull the sheets away from his head and the sight made him exhale in anguish. Peter was crying rivers, face bright red from the struggle but still evidently not awake. His breathing was laboured, and Quentin quickly tried to sit him up, to open his airways before he stopped breathing entirely. "Hey, Peter it's me, Peter please wake up… Wake up Peter…."

When he was pulled into Quentin's arms, Peter's eyes snapped open. Once his limbs stopped flailing his entire body went rigid from the fight, minus the violent trembling. He blinked rapidly in confusion, noticing the tears in his eyes and hoarseness of his throat and pulled away sharply to look at Quentin, who looked positively terrified for him. Cold sweat was plastered to his forehead, hair damp with it. The hands on his back continued to rub up and down, and Peter felt himself falling into Quentin's strong arms, burying his face into the man's night shirt and sobbing into the fabric. There was still pain in his body, and Peter could've sworn he'd actually just been crushed under a building by how badly his joints were aching. But Quentin's soft, reassuring whispers eased the screaming in his muscles and melted away the ache in his bones. He clung desperately to the man as he cried, Toomes' leering face still fresh in his mind. It took a while to regain control of his breathing, though, and by the time he had he was exhausted, barely awake enough to even remind himself to take some deep breaths like Quentin was telling him to. There was a hand in his hair, smoothing it back away from his sweaty forehead and gently combing through it as he rested in Quentin's embrace. It was long before he could even muster the energy to speak, and when he did, his voice was broken and small.

"I was suffocating…"

"I gathered that much, you were tangled in your sheets." Beck replied softly, still stroking his hair.

"I'm sorry I woke everyone up."

"You don’t need to be sorry. You need to be safe. If you didn't wake everyone up, you could've asphyxiated."

"I'm sorry." Peter said again. He was still shaking.

Quentin didn't move for a while, still gently touching his hair and rubbing between his shoulder blades to ease the tension out of his back. When Peter was ready, he finally pulled away, immediately cold from the lack of contact. He wiped his sore eyes with the back of the hand, unable to look Quentin in the eye. There was a heavy silence in the room, and Peter could feel the anticipation of everyone outside. He let out a shaky sigh, laying back down in his bed, which was drenched in cold sweat.

"I'm sorry, Peter."

"Why?"

"I'm sorry you have to keep experiencing this over and over. I don’t know how you keep going, it must be so draining."

"It is." Peter closed his eyes, shivering against the cold. "I'm sorry I woke everyone up." He said again.

Quentin shook his head. "No one's mad. Do you want me to let your friends back in?"

Peter nodded slowly. "I'm gonna … Have a shower." He gestured to his sweat-soaked clothes, and Beck nodded in response.

"Alright. Goodnight, Peter."

"Goodnight…" It took a moment for him to move, but Peter finally shuffled into the bathroom and switched on the shower. To warm himself back up he took the hottest shower he could physically handle, before changing back into a pair of his thickest pajamas. When he left the bathroom, MJ, Ned and Betty were back in the room, but no one looked his way other than MJ, perhaps out of awkwardness. When he went to sit down on his bed, she spoke.

"No. Come here."

Peter frowned in confusion, but headed over to her direction and sat on the corner of her bed.

"Lay down."

He did as she asked, feeling her arms snake around his waist when he laid on his side. His initial reaction was to tense, but she held him close to her warmth, pulling the duvet over to cover them both.

"It's okay. You're okay, Peter."

At that, all the tension dropped out of his body and he melted into her arms. MJ was warm against his back, and her boobs pressed into him providing a human-sized hot water bottle. He let her press her nose against the back of his neck and he sighed, closing his eyes again. Fingers curled around his own and Peter clung to them desperately, grateful for the contact. They remained that way for the rest of the night, tangled around each other comfortingly as they fell into a more peaceful sleep with each other's company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what, you didn't think this was gonna go completely smooth sailing, did you? thank god for quentin beck though, am i right?


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter spends a day at the house watching Disney movies with MJ and Quentin, and the class has a barbecue.

When Ned and Betty woke to get ready for the day, MJ didn't budge from Peter's side. Still they lay tangled in each other's arms, but now with Peter's face in her shoulder and her arms around his back. One of her hands was by his head, fingers loosely laced in his hair. She shushed them when they looked over her way, motioning to an unconscious Peter before whispering for them to have a good day. When they left, MJ gently rested her chin back on the top of his head. Peter let out a small sound of appreciation. It wasn't long after that when Quentin knocked gently to check up on them both, pleasantly surprised to find the pair clinging for dear life to each other in the tiny single bed. Neither of the pair had stirred when he'd entered, and satisfied that the pair were safe he headed back downstairs. MJ ensured Peter slept calmly, her arms shielding him from any terrors that threatened his dreams and her warmth providing a blanket of security over Peter's sleeping figure. It was well after noon when Peter finally stirred, head pounding and mouth feeling like it was full of sand. A groan escaped his lips when he blinked his eyes open and he went to stretch, only then noticing the arms around his body. The memories of the previous night came flooding back like a burst dam, and an uncomfortable guilt settled in his stomach.

"Hey." MJ spoke above him, voice low and thick with sleep. "How'd you sleep?"

"Better, thank you." Peter finally stretched when MJ released him to roll over, his joints still sore from the previous night. There wasn't much room in the single bed now that they weren't entwined with each other, so Peter sat up, yawning. The banging in his head didn't disappear.

"You feeling any better?"

"Not much." Peter answered truthfully, getting to his feet and stretching out his back. There were a few little pops, and he sighed in relief. "I'm really thirsty, though."

"It's way past noon, so I'm not surprised."

"Holy shit-" Peter let out a laugh, heading over to his case to retrieve some clothes. The pajamas he'd thrown on the floor the night before were still in a pile by his bed. "Is anyone else here?"

"I think everyone went to the Eiffel Tower today, so it's just us and Beck."

"Aw no, what?" Peter glanced up, a downcast expression on his face. Suddenly he felt very selfish. "You both really wanted to go…" _He'd wanted to go._

"It doesn't matter, I'd rather keep you company and make sure you're alright rather than go and walk up a big tower, anyway."

The weight in Peter's chest lightened. "Really?"

"Of course." MJ was sprawled out in her bed, the sheets half on the floor. One of her long legs was hanging off the side of the bed, and she let out a loud yawn.

Peter beamed at her, before starting to change into some jeans and a t-shirt. Soon after MJ threw on some tracksuit pants and a shirt, and they both headed downstairs. Quentin was in the living room, watching a Disney movie by himself. It almost made Peter feel guilty for making him stay behind, until he noticed how hard Quentin was concentrating on the film. It almost made him laugh; Peter never would've guessed Beck was a Disney person.

"Hey." MJ spoke, collapsing onto one of the sofas and crossing her legs. Quentin glanced up at her, and then his eyes found Peter.

"Hey. How are you feeling this morning, Pete?"

"Better. Thank you." Peter sat beside MJ, feeling slightly awkward after his breakdown on Beck last night. He'd been in a pretty vulnerable state that only May had previously seen him in, and he hadn't planned on showing _that side _of him to Beck, or in fact anyone really. It hadn't seemed to faze Quentin, if anything it had _scared _him seeing Peter so terrified and trapped in his own head. And with how the sheets had been strangling him…

"Everyone went to the Eiffel Tower this morning, but you both seemed to need the sleep so I thought I'd leave you be. Especially you, Peter."

"I'm okay, really. Thank you though, Beck."

"You're welcome. Can I get you both anything? You didn't manage to grab breakfast and I'm assuming you're both hungry."

"We can manage." MJ replied kindly, smiling at Quentin. It almost shocked Peter, seeing her usual sarcastic demeanour vanish when she spoke to him. Clearly she liked him more than most people she knew, and Peter could understand why. Quentin nodded back at her, and refocused his attention to Finding Nemo. "I think we've got some baguettes still from yesterday." She said to Peter, gesturing for him to follow her into the kitchen.

Peter didn't feel Quentin's gaze on him as he left the room.

They settled for making chicken mayo baguettes, and as Peter headed towards the fridge MJ spoke.

"Hey… You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"Right." Peter replied, face heating up at the dangerous territory this conversation was headed in.

"It's just… I know you feel guilty, and you shouldn't Peter. You're allowed to have some time to yourself once in a while, you know?"

"Wh- what are you talking about?" Peter asked sheepishly, still not turning to face her in fear his panic-stricken expression would give him away. He stared into the open fridge at a bottle of orange juice. MJ was an observant girl. She didn't miss a trick.

"I know you're Spider-Man. I have done for a while, and I know you didn’t wanna tell anyone because it's dangerous and whatever but I just - I figured it out, and it would explain like, a lot."

"Are you kidding?" Peter finally turned around, laughing nervously. "_Spider-Man_? Isn't he like… Thirty?"

"No." MJ put down the bread, and moved towards him. Her expression wore a ghost of sympathy, but her eyes were hard. "I mean it Peter, and honestly? It's insane and I can't believe you've done so much for everyone and don't expect anything back. Don't you demand like, a salary or something?"

"No…" Peter finally broke character, his shoulders slumping as he sighed heavily. "MJ I… I can't tell anyone, it could put them in danger especially if they mean a lot to me-"

"Ned and Quentin know."

Peter went to argue, but found he couldn't. She wasn't slow. Instead, he closed his eyes. "Ned was an accident. And Quentin… Well, I just had to tell someone at the time and we weren't close or anything so it didn't matter really? No one would think of him if my identity ever came out. But, my best friends… And my aunt… I couldn't tell you, because it's just not safe."

"I know, Peter. But I know being Spider-Man is hurting you."

"But it's healing me."

"It's healing you from what it directly caused. You wouldn't have such traumatising nightmares about I don't know what if you hadn't put on that suit and tried to soften the blow of what was coming. Peter, you're my best friend. And you mean a lot to me, so seeing you hurting… It hurts _me, _you know? I don't want you to hurt."

"You can't do anything about it."

"But you can. Please, stop beating yourself up about it. You need some time to heal properly, and you can’t always prevent bad things from happening even if you really want to."

Peter looked away when she finished talking, refusing to meet her eyes. The fridge beeped loudly from behind him, and he quickly turned around to close it. Then there was an uncomfortable silence.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"I understand why you didn't. You don't need to apologise."

"Okay…" With the chicken in his hand, he turned back around to look at MJ. She was smiling at him now, big and toothy. He couldn't help but mirror it. Suddenly there were no secrets between them.

The pair prepared their lunch and headed back into the living room, Quentin glancing up as they entered. Peter, with a weight off his shoulders and a much lighter feeling in his stomach, sat down beside Quentin, who rose an eyebrow at him.

"You guys aren't supposed to eat anywhere besides the dining room…" At Peter's puppy-dog eyes, though, he quirked the other brow. "But… I'm sure I could make an exception, just this once." A grin broke Peter's pout and he turned his attention back to his food, starting to eat. He was ravenous, especially after skipping breakfast in favour of a lie-in. The entire thing was gone before MJ had got halfway through hers, and he was finishing off his coke when she spoke.

"You're a pig."

"Enhanced metabolism."

Quentin quickly tore his eyes off the screen to stare questioningly at Peter, who immediately felt his gaze burning into the side of his head.

"I told her-" He started quickly, but MJ interrupted him before he could finish.

"He didn't tell me. I figured it out"

With that, Quentin simply rose his eyebrows again and looked away. "Right. No secret identity."

"Only Ned and MJ know!" Peter said hastily, looking back at his counsellor. "No one else."

"I'm glad you finally opened up." Quentin said softly, offering Peter a small smile. Peter returned it, and the three sat in silence as they watched the rest of the movie. That's how they spent the rest of the day, watching Disney movies in the living room and making small talk. It was nice to take a day off and just laze about. Usually Peter had one hundred and one things to do before the day was over, so sprawling across the sofa with his counsellor beside him and MJ across the room was a pleasant change of scenery. As advised by Quentin he muted his phone and didn't pick it up for the best part of the day; the tweets and articles on Spider-Man wouldn't be beneficial to read and would only reinstate the guilt from a couple of days prior. Beck had mentioned that he believed Peter's nightmare was linked to his overwhelming guilt he'd experienced recently, and Peter honestly couldn't argue with him. He was probably right. At one point, Peter started to doze off again and his head dropped onto Quentin's shoulder. The contact was comforting in his sleepy state, and he was too tired to lift it off of him. Quentin didn't move him, either.

Around early evening their class returned and Beck got up carefully to prepare dinner for everyone. Peter woke abruptly at the movement and mourned his loss, but the void was soon filled by MJ, who sat beside him and delved straight into conversation with him. Mid sentence, however, he remembered he hadn't checked his phone all day and if he had any messages from May she would lose her mind. When he saw several texts and missed calls from her, Peter called May to let her know he was okay, as Quentin had had to call her and explain he'd had a night terror and woken half the class up. She was stressed, but Peter reassured her easily and promised that he was doing fine and MJ was looking out for him, as well as Mr Beck. At that, she became interested, asking if Peter _liked _MJ and if she was pretty. At that, he quickly cut the call short, but not before he heard Happy on the other end of the line.

"Why is Happy there?" He enquired, only to be palmed off by May who had vaguely mentioned him 'helping her with some things'. "What does that mean-" He started, only to be cut off by May's 'I love you, be safe!'s and the sound of the call dropping. Astounded, Peter put his cell back away in his pocket and returned to his friends. Ned and Betty seemed intent on pretending Peter hadn't had a nervous breakdown in the middle of the night and woken everyone up, and while it hurt Peter that Ned hadn't even asked if he was okay, he was glad nobody was talking about it. Well, almost nobody. Sure, there were a few glances that kept being thrown his way whenever he wasn't looking; but at least no one had come up to him and asked him directly about it. Flash seemed to enjoy talking about it loudly to anyone who would listen, however, and Peter tried his best to ignore it. It was only Flash. No one liked Flash. No one cared.

That's what he told himself to get over it, anyway. It was his last day in Paris; he wasn't going to let Flash Thompson's loud mouth ruin his relatively-okay mood.

A few students and Quentin cooked a barbecue in the large garden outside, and all of the students were sprawled out on picnic blankets on the grass. The smoky aroma of grilled meat and salads was welcome to Peter, who got both himself and MJ a plate of food from Quentin, who seemed glad he was feeling better from last night. When he returned with his and MJ's food, Peter was stunned to see Brad in his spot, offering MJ a burger which she politely declined. She was looking at Peter expressively, eyes screaming _help me_. Peter took the hint and sat on MJ's other side, passing her the paper plate, which she accepted gratefully. "Hey, Brad!"

"Parker! That was some loud screaming last night, what happened?"

"None of your business." Peter replied curtly, turning away from him and focusing his attention on his burger instead. The cheese oozed out of the side of the buns when he bit into it, and Peter couldn't help but moan in satisfaction at the taste of gooey emmental. He'd hoped that Brad would leave the subject at that, but boy he was wrong.

"It's kind of my business when you wake me up and scare the shit out of half of the class. It sounded like someone was being murdered."

"It's none of your fucking business, Brad." MJ piped up, turning to glare at the kid harshly. "Take a wild fucking guess, and leave us alone?"

Peter almost choked on his burger at her response, keeping his eyes well away from the pair in case he'd laugh in his face. Brad, clearly annoyed by the lack of response, got up with a huff and stalked off back to his friends, leaving MJ glowering until Peter let out a laugh.

"I think he likes you." Peter teased, taking another bite out of his burger. Oh man, Quentin really knew how to cook.

"I think he's gross." MJ replied coldly, looking away from Brad and back to her hot dog. "Thanks for the food, by the way."

"You're welcome." Peter grinned back at her, ketchup on his chin. MJ simply shook her head at him, biting back a laugh as she ate her hot dog.

They ate in comfortable silence, listening to the sound of cooking meat and rustling leaves. It was mildly warm outside, the summer air mingling with the scent of smoke and barbecue to create an enjoyable atmosphere. Peter was mainly focusing attention on Quentin, though. The man was dressed in a black polo shirt and beige slacks, his hair brushed back out of his face while he cooked. A couple of students were by his side offering help, and Peter wanted to up there with them, but MJ had advised him to lay low again, especially after last night. She didn't want Peter's crush on Beck to become obvious, for his sake and Quentin's. So he stayed by her side, eating barbecue food and drinking juice as he watched the man tend to the grill. Every so often, his eyes would venture down and sneak a glance at Quentin's ass. It fit _nicely _into his pants, and Peter wanted to stare at it all day but he knew he'd get caught, so he settled for spare glances every so often when it was safe. MJ noticed, and nudged his arm.

"Stop being so horny."

"I'm not…! It's just - a good ass."

"You're right, but you shouldn't stare so obnoxiously. Go get some more salad."

Peter huffed, getting to his feet and scowling at a sweetly smiling MJ before heading back over to Quentin.

"Hey, Peter. You want another burger?"

"No…! They're really good, but I've had three already, I'll probably throw up if I have another."

"What can I get you then?"

"Nothing, just… Getting some more salad."

Quentin's face bared a small smirk, and he turned to face Peter. "You had much to drink?"

"Yeah. I'll just - grab another bottle of water." Peter's face became hot when Quentin stared him down, and he smiled nervously before plating up some salad and grabbing a water. 

"Good boy." It was quiet enough that only Peter heard, and his dick throbbed in his pants. Before he could gain another unwanted erection, Peter quickly headed back to MJ and sat his ass in the grass.

"Thanks." MJ stole the plate from Peter, who turned to stare incredulously at her. She stuck her fork into the lettuce.

"I hate you sometimes."

"I know."

It was late evening when everyone finally headed back inside. The sky had become littered with glowing dots of light, a marbled sapphire replacing the early sunset. It was a relatively cloudless night, and Peter had been watching the sky, dotted with small planes and helicopters. After curfew, everyone headed back inside and headed to bed, but Peter remained in the kitchen alone with his thoughts. Mr Harrington found him at the bar, head in his hands and deep in thought. "Peter?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Why aren't you in bed?"

"I just, needed some time to think… I'm sorry, sir."

"It's okay, just make sure you head off before eleven, alright?"

Peter nodded at that, returning his gaze to the counter in front of him.

All he seemed to be able to think of was Queens. This vacation was real nice, but he'd been gone for almost a week now; it seemed impossible to believe after Tony died, he hadn't given them a second thought for months. MJ had a point, Spider-Man did seem to bring trouble to him the more he put on the suit; but at the same time, it had healed him. He'd been given so many opportunities through the Avengers, and without Tony his class wouldn't even be on this trip. Peter probably would've just been snapped and brought back and expected to deal with it like everyone else. Sure, he wouldn't have had the grief of losing Tony and Natasha, and then eventually Steve, but it still would've been just as psychologically draining. Plus, there was no way Peter would've been able to manufacture his suit without Tony's help; Peter would still be a kid in a sweatsuit and goggles, and who would expect that to look out for them? In a way, he owed a lot to Spider-Man. Without his enhanced abilities, Peter would probably be just another nerd in Midtown High in senior year after being missing for five. But maybe he and Ned wouldn't have drifted apart…? That wasn't entirely down to Peter; Ned seemed very emotionally invested in Betty, and Peter couldn't really say he blamed him. It was his first love, and although he couldn't express it, Peter was feeling very much the same in regards to Quentin. It was unfair, how most people his age had an actual chance with the people they liked whereas Peter just had to pretend nothing was happening because he would never be able to experience real love. Not with his counsellor, anyway. No, all Peter could do was ignore it. Perhaps indulge it every so often, but nothing good would ever come out of it, really. All it was, was a distraction from other problems at hand he wasn't ready to deal with yet. With a sigh, Peter closed his eyes.

"It's gone eleven, Pete."

Eyes shooting open at the sudden voice, Peter whipped his head around to spot Quentin by the kitchen door. Weird, his spidey sense hadn't even let him know the man was there. How long had he even been there…?

"I'm sorry. I'm just thinking."

"Need to talk about anything?" Quentin asked softly, approaching him lightly and taking a seat at the barstool beside Peter.

"No… Just having an identity crisis."

"Can't say I have firsthand experience with that." Beck replied airily, and Peter laughed.

"Yeah, well… It sucks."

"What are you thinking?"

"Part of me wants to go home. Part of me wants to stay, because we're not even halfway through the trip and tomorrow we're going to London. Like, I've always wanted to go to London. I didn't get to go to the Eiffel Tower today…" His voice trailed off as he realised that Beck and MJ hadn't either, because of him. "I'm sorry. My head's just all over the place recently."

"I know, Peter. It must be difficult, and I gotta say you're dealing with it really well." Quentin clapped a hand on Peter's shoulder for a moment, and Peter glanced up at him. His eyes were shining, like they usually did when he was in Beck's presence. Focused solely on him. "If you want to go home, you can."

"No… I don't know. I'm here now, I should just enjoy it, right? And this trip was funded by Tony… It wouldn't be right to leave now and not appreciate his selflessness."

"Right." Beck agreed, giving Peter a reassuring smile. "It's your choice, at the end of the day."

"Thanks, Quentin."

"No problem. You really should be getting to sleep, though. We've got a plane to catch tomorrow."

"Okay, goodnight."

"Sweet dreams, kid."

Peter left the kitchen feeling lighter, his mind finally set. He headed back to his room, where everyone was already changed and in bed, and got into his own pajamas. They'd have to wake early for their flight tomorrow, so Peter prayed he'd get a decent night's sleep, at least so he'd have a relatively comfortable flight. Thankfully, luck was in his favour and he fell into a dreamless sleep only a few minutes after he'd wished his friends goodnight and his head hit the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry i forgot to update yesterday, i was really sick and it just must've slipped my mind :( two chapters tonight should make up for it though i hope?
> 
> next stop : london !!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter & MJ strike up a deal, and Quentin and Peter spend some time alone in Hyde Park ...

The flight to London was almost a piece of cake as it was only a couple of hours from takeoff to landing. A large portion of the students were begging Mr Harrington to go to McDonald's the second they landed, something Peter wholly agreed with. After a lot of whining from ten plus students, Mr Harrington finally reached the end of his tether and agreed, earning a cheer from everyone except Mr Beck who was simply chuckling. Peter, starving from the stress of the flight (he still wasn't accustomed to the idea of being several thousand feet in the air in a flying tin), ordered the biggest burger on the menu and shared mozzarella sticks with MJ, who went for a reasonable Mayo chicken. They ate together, scattered about the floor in the airport as there was no seating. Peter couldn't take his eyes off Quentin, who was picking at his fries absent-mindedly while looking nowhere in particular. Clearly he was deep in thought about something, and the sight was easy on Peter's eyes. Weird how someone could look so good after spending a week chaperoning sixteen teenagers around Europe and barely sleeping alongside it. The dark circles under his eyes were noticeable, but Peter didn't think they looked bad; it just proved how much effort he was putting into ensuring everyone had a good time. Plus, Peter had probably stressed him out especially with that night he almost suffocated to death during a nightmare. A twinge of guilt surfaced in his gut, and he chewed slower. Quentin was doing so much for him, and not even just him - for the best part of the trip. Mr Harrington, God bless his soul, was hopeless at organisation so it was always down to Quentin to ensure everyone was in at curfew, to keep their houses stocked with food, to plan trips out and to listen to anyone's issues. He essentially was a babysitter for a huge group of teenagers and he deserved an award for it, really. Peter felt a little guilty, but then Quentin did sign up to help and wasn't forced into anything; plus, he was a grown man and could probably handle it. It was his job title, after all. The guilt evaporated into a soft sigh, which became a grunt of pain when MJ elbowed him. "What?"

"He's looking at you, heart eyes."

Peter glanced back at Quentin who was, indeed, watching Peter. He rose his eyebrows and lifted his soda to his lips, taking a drink before glancing away again. _Fuck._

"You're failing miserably at keeping this under wraps."

"I'm trying, MJ."

"Not hard enough." She smirked, before licking her thumb and swiping at his cheek. Peter pulled away, incredulously.

"What are you doing?"

"You had mayo on your cheek. And I have an idea."

"What…?" Peter asked carefully, not liking where this was going.

"Seeing as you're absolutely terrible at keeping things a secret, how about to take the attention off of you staring at our teacher twenty hours of the day, we pretend… To get together?"

"What? No! No offence, MJ, I just-"

"You like men, I know, but no one else does and hopefully he'll think that-"

"He knows."

MJ deadpanned. "He knows you're gay?"

A small nod.

"Oh, fuck me Peter you're hopeless."

"What?! It came out when I was hypnotised and I didn't- I didn't realise it was an issue until I talked about it and then, well-"

"Whatever, it doesn't matter. But for everyone else? To get Flash off your back?"

"MJ… Are you trying to tell me something?"

"What? No!" MJ blanched and looked away immediately, suddenly becoming very interested in the drinks menu.

"You're gay?" It was a question, not an accusation.

MJ's eyes flashed dangerously and she glared daggers at Peter. "You…" The girl trailed off, a dark scowl on her face. "It's not something I want to talk about."

"If you want to pretend to be together so nobody says anything, I get it. We can keep each other's cover."

"I just don't know how people would react… I don't want to know." There was a sadness in her eyes that concerned Peter; had something happened regarding her sexuality?

"You can talk to me, MJ… I mean, you know I'm Spider-Man. That's probably the biggest secret you can have."

A chuckle left her lips at the comment, and she sighed heavily and defeatedly. "Soon. But can we pretend…?"

"Sure." Peter glanced down, his eyes asking the silent question that MJ's own answered with ease. He took her hand into his, squeezing it and noticing he liked the contact. She smiled warmly at him, and he kissed it. Not just for show, but to prove he meant what he said. Eyes shining, MJ looked away from him again and the smile didn't leave her lips. Peter was on her side.

A few people noticed, but nobody mentioned the hand holding. At one point Quentin glanced at Peter and quirked an eyebrow that said _I thought you were gay?_ But Peter shook his head, hoping Quentin got the message that he'd explain another time.

The rest of the day was spent exploring. After they'd deposited their luggage in their townhouse, the class visited Central London and did some sightseeing. A lot of it was spent with MJ's hand in Peter's, although it wasn't just for show; Peter noticed he felt calmer with human contact, so holding onto MJ was comforting. Ned and Betty picked up on it and hounded the pair; MJ calmly said they were testing the waters. Whatever that meant. Betty squealed excitedly, and Ned punched Peter's arm, who chuckled awkwardly and continued taking photos with his free hand. Peter had taken a lot of photographs during the trip, including a few of Quentin when he hadn't been looking. Sure it sounded creepy, but he meant it in goodwill. It's not like he took the photos to jack off to them…

And that's how the rest of the day went, a lot of walking, a lot of touristy photo-taking and sightseeing. Peter and MJ grabbed some fast food on the way back to the townhouse instead of eating with everyone else, so when they got back they ventured into the garden and spent the rest of the evening discussing their plans for the rest of the trip. It was late when Peter brought up the touchy subject again.

"You know, I wont judge you if you talk to me, MJ. I mean, I literally… Like dick. Yeah, I like dick. So it won't matter to me if you… You know."

MJ sighed exasperatedly. "I'm not gay, Peter."

"No?"

"I'm… Well, I don't know. I don't like boys, and some girls okay yeah they're cute or whatever but I just… I don't think about sex? It's literally never crossed my mind, wanting to have sex with someone, anyone, even the hottest girl or guy on Earth I just… I can't think of anything worse, you know? The thought of having someone touch me so intimately just makes me feel sick. But to say that would not only make people think I'm gay, but a prude as well and I just… It's no one's business, you know? But society has these standards that every teenager has to live up to, and substance abuse and sex just happen to be the most important things on people's minds right now and I don't… I don't get it, Peter? Am I just that boring?"

"No…!" Peter interrupted, taking her hand into his again. "No, MJ you're so far from boring. Everyone is so worried about their popularity that somehow ruining their bodies is considered cool now. I don't judge anyone that drinks or does drugs or sleeps around, but it's not the requirements of _being _a teenager, you know? I'm a virgin, MJ, I've never been to a real party or even touched a drug besides aspirin in my life and I don't think it defines you as a person. You're so much more than your social habits, you're an incredible person and whether you want to or don't want to is totally okay but it's your business and no one else's. I hate that you think so little of yourself over a dumb high school trend to ruin your teenage years with aimless fucking and alcoholism…"

MJ smiled weakly, still staring at the floor. "A guy came to my house, once. Think it was the eighth grade? I thought we were just doing a class project, and then he started to kiss me. I didn't want it, and he touched my boobs and it just… Nothing _bad _happened, but I just didn't want it, you know? I thought he was going to hurt me…"

Peter felt his blood boil at MJ's anecdote, and his grip on her hand tightened ever so slightly. The sadness in her eyes was back again, so he used his thumb to stroke over her palm. "I'm sorry, MJ. You didn't deserve that. No one does. Please don't push yourself into doing anything you don't want to do for the sake of being accepted. It's not worth it, I promise."

MJ nodded, and finally turned to look at him. There were no tears falling down her cheeks, but her eyes were red and shining. Peter felt compelled to pull her into a hug, and so he did. MJ's arms wrapped around his back, and her head nuzzled into his shoulder. Mirroring Quentin's technique, he rubbed small circles into her back and hoping it would soothe her distress. To his luck, it did and she soon pulled away looking more relieved than she had done.

"Thank you, Peter."

"You're welcome." Peter offered her a warm smile that she returned, and the pair went back to conversing about museums in London MJ wanted to visit.

From the window of the kitchen, Quentin was watching the two, pride swelling in him at the sight of Peter so effortlessly comforting MJ. It was nice to see the pair both breaking down some barriers, and he could see the trust between the two in the way they held each other. MJ had never held anybody like that, and Quentin vaguely remembered her shouting at him to get off when he attempted to calm her down during a breakdown in one of their sessions. He'd since learned that she wasn't a contact person, but with Peter it was different. Beck was thankful she finally had someone to trust in, and that went for Peter, too.

\--

The next day was a lot more exciting in Peter's eyes. Beck announced they'd be seeing The Lion King at the West End that evening, so the day was mainly spent meandering through a lot of stores in Covent Garden and Leicester Square. Peter ended up buying an 'I <3 London' hat that MJ matched for a laugh, and the pair bought an insane amount of m&m's from M&M World right in the centre of Leicester Square. They sat for a while, munching on the candy and watching the street performers that came and went, until around five Quentin called them all back to head to the theatre. Peter sat beside Betty and MJ, subtly noting that Ned hadn't spoken to him since yesterday afternoon. Ignoring that though, he focused his attention on the play and tried not to squeak when MJ's hand sought out his once more.

"You don't mind, do you? It's just… Comforting."

"Of course not!" Peter replied breathlessly, giving her a small squeeze of reassurance. Peter was grateful for it, really; he was worried he was leading her on when she knew he had feelings for their teacher. But, she also had confessed to not experiencing sexual attraction so at least he didn't have to worry about any awkward feelings in their friendship. Plus, he was ninety-four percent if MJ was to ever fall in love, it would be with a girl. But he could never really tell with her, so it was hit or miss really.

Peter was enjoying his growing closeness with MJ. On the outside, she was cold, sarcastic and not the type of person you could easily become friends with. But Peter felt like he knew her differently. MJ wasn't her exterior, she had an interesting personality. She was funny, knowledgeable. Most girls worried about what they looked like and how much makeup they had to put on each morning, but MJ woke up and tossed on the nearest jeans and hoodie she could find. MJ didn't judge people for their preferences, and she could keep a secret, which apparently the majority of the school struggled with as rumours spread faster and more brutally than wildfire. Hell, she knew he was Spider-Man and didn't tell anyone; she didn't get all excited and think about her own popularity, like Ned had done initially, and convince him to tell everyone. MJ respected his privacy and his emotions, which to find a friend like that was really, seriously rare, even more so after the snap. And Peter was really grateful to find someone like her, especially after drifting apart from Ned.

The play soon came to an end, and they were being ushered out of the theatre by their teachers. It was late now, and the group still hadn't eaten; someone suggested Chinese food, especially with Chinatown so close to where they were and, hesitantly, Quentin and Mr Harrington agreed. Piling eighteen people into one tiny restaurant would prove to be difficult though; Quentin was sure they probably had large groups celebrating in the restaurants often, but sixteen teenagers and two adults was a slightly different situation altogether. In the end, they settled for getting takeout and scattered about the floor in the centre of Chinatown. It was dark now; flaming balls of prismatic gases lit up the sky above them, the moon casting a pale glow across the ground. There were lanterns lit all around them now, flames flickering in the gentle breeze and providing the perfect lighting for a …

"Selfie!" Mr Harrington got up with his camera, and extended his arm to get everyone into the frame. It took a couple of tries, but eventually he managed, and everyone smiled (besides, MJ, who flipped off the camera much to Mr Harrington's disdain). She smirked into her noodles, knowing he wouldn't be able to get another one very easily. In the photo, Peter had a few strands of noodles hanging from his mouth, but was beaming nonetheless. Ned and Betty were clinging to each other, Betty's lips on his red cheek. And Quentin was grinning a little further away, a mouthful of noodles wrapped around his chopsticks as he posed. Everyone got back to eating immediately, and MJ simply smiled sweetly at Mr Harrington, who sighed and sat back down again. Although he was enjoying himself, Peter couldn't help but miss Quentin. The man was a couple of feet away from him, but Peter had never felt further away. He desperately craved his touch and to laugh with him, pass him noodles with his chopsticks and laugh if they dropped onto his lap. Truthfully? Peter was so in love with Quentin that it was starting to hurt. Not being around him caused a deep ache to settle in his chest, but being close and unable to talk to him was just as damaging. Peter was considering telling him; not that he was in love with _him, _God no. He even could've played it off as MJ who he was in love with, except for the tiny problem that Quentin knew his sexuality. Plus, Peter wouldn't want to lie about being bisexual. There were no secrets between them, and adding one unnecessarily would go against Peter's morals. Not telling him wasn't a secret per se; it just wasn't information he needed to know. After all, what could Quentin do other than shut Peter out after he confessed?

Fighting against his desperation to sit beside Quentin as he ate, Peter settled for scrolling through his twitter feed frustratedly. He'd long finished his meal, but everyone else was still eating and the anticipation of waiting for them to finish was starting to get to him.

"Mr Harrington?" He finally called, getting to his feet. "Is it okay if I take a walk? I really need to get some air."

"What do you think you're breathing, Pete?"

A few scattered laughs.

"No I mean I… I need to go for a walk, alone, I need some time to think."

"No can do, Peter. We're leaving after this."

"Please sir, I just - I need to think."

"I can take him." Quentin piped up from behind, food discarded beside him. "Do you need to talk about something, Peter?"

It was as good as he was going to get, he supposed. Slowly, he nodded. Quentin could apparently see the sudden stress in his expression and got to his feet.

"Alright, I'll bring him back to the house if he needs some time. Come on, Peter." Quentin's hand touched his shoulder lightly, and the noodles in Peter's stomach did a flip at the contact. He allowed himself to be guided away by the man, feeling a slight sweat break out on his forehead. Now what was he going to tell him?

They ended up in Leicester Square again, sat on the wall beside McDonalds. Peter had asked to go inside and get a frappe, but Quentin had said the last thing he needed was coffee and brought him out a water instead. Peter took it gratefully, chugging half the bottle out of nerves.

"Hey, slow down with that - you'll bring those noodles back up if you aren't careful." Quentin bit back a laugh at Peter's twitchy exterior. "You feeling alright?"

Peter glanced at him and put the bottle down, screwing the lid back on. The expression on Quentin's face sparked something in his core; while his brain begged him to move in to kiss him, Peter stayed violently still, barely breathing in fear he might do something he regretted. For a moment he stayed silent, simply locking eyes with his teacher, who gazed back at him expectantly. Finally, Peter spoke.

"I'm frustrated."

"Sexually? I've noticed your little fling with Michelle."

"Wh- no! Well, yes, but no- I mean I can't- MJ and I aren't… Really together. It was her idea. I don't think I should talk about it."

"Right." Quentin agreed, nodding. "So, how are you… 'Frustrated'?"

"I just don't- I don't have the freedom to exercise." Peter was starting to go pink in the face, refusing to meet Quentin in the eyes.

"… Elaborate?"

"I- in Queens, I can put on the suit and swing around. Tire myself out, you know? I feel constantly… Jittery? Like, you know when you forget to do an assignment and have to chug four cups of coffee to pull an all nighter and get it done before the next day kind of jittery?"

Quentin narrowed his eyes. "Sadly I do know. I'm disappointed you do though."

"Don't say that." Peter grinned awkwardly, shrugging his shoulders. "I just- have so much energy pent up, and I feel like I can't release it and it's not so bad when we're doing things, but when I'm not I just feel so… On edge? And tense, and shaky and -"

"Peter. Don't take this the wrong way. But … You sound like you're sexually frustrated." Quentin's voice was cool and smooth. It was enough to break out goosebumps all over Peter's neck. He said it like it was the most casual thing in the world. It certainly _wasn't _the most casual thing in the world, especially when you were Peter who was experiencing said sexual frustration.

"I am, man! Isn't everyone? But that's not it! I mean it doesn't _help_, but like- I can't _exercise._ I'm so used to swinging about the city each night that I just am constantly vibrating man."

"Have you tried…" Quentin looked around awkwardly, before making a motion with his hand. Peter blinked a few times and stared at him, unsure of how to respond. When Quentin did the motion again, his brain finally came back online. An aggressive blush broke out across his face.

"I- I mean yeah I - but it's not - I don’t know, I just need to - fuck, this is hard."

"Hard, huh?" Quentin's lips were upturned into a smirk.

"Shut up, man. This is a serious issue!"

"Right, right I'm sorry. Well, have you tried going for a run?"

"No… I'm not sure where around here I can just go and run."

"There's always Hyde Park."

"Hm?"

"Hyde Park." Quentin repeated. "Like, a huge park in the middle of London. A bit like Central Park, but a little smaller. Lots of people go cycling and running there, they have a lake where you can canoe. Maybe we should go tomorrow?"

"Do you think we could go now?"

Quentin cringed a little. "I'm not sure we can just… Go to Hyde Park in the middle of the night so you can run around. No offence, kid. As much as I'd love to help you out."

"Please?" Peter widened his eyes a little, pouting. While Quentin laughed, Peter didn't back down. The pout stayed on his face and his eyes on Quentin until the man let out a hard sigh.

"You're gonna get me into so much trouble, Peter…" Quentin said finally, getting to his feet. "Oh, god. Fine! We need to be quick, though. Before the others notice something's up."

Peter beamed excitedly. "Thank you! Thank you thank you thank you -"

"Alright, kid, come on then! We need to get a tube!"

"Right. Okay."

To their luck, there was a tube just arriving when they headed through the barriers and they immediately headed onto that one. The entire situation seemed ridiculous to Peter; why was Quentin doing this? If anyone found out, he would probably lose his job. It wasn't exactly professional to take a student gallivanting through London at nine o'clock at night. But Peter was different; he had powers, and, well, needs. If he didn’t meet those needs, Quentin was sure he'd have anther meltdown and he didn't need that on his conscience. It would be better to help soothe Peter's anxiety than induce it, right? That was his job as his counsellor. Plus, Peter had an effect on Quentin that he couldn't quite pinpoint; he was more willing to bend the rules, for Peter's safety. More so than the average student. But perhaps that was because putting Peter at risk, would also put Spider-Man at risk, and a lot of people were depending on him to look out for them and, if the time ever came again, to save the world. Quentin couldn't risk him deteriorating again, so he was doing everything in his power to ensure Peter stayed well and stable.

At least that's what he told himself.

When they arrived at Hyde Park, it was near empty. Peter broke out into a flat out run the minute he was above ground, something Quentin struggled to match.

"Be back here in fifteen minutes, Peter!" Quentin called, unable to keep the pace for much longer and slowing to a stop, catching his breath. God, he was getting old.

Peter on the other hand, was embracing the burn in his lungs as he ran; the wind rushed past his ears and through his hair, a melody to him after a lifetime of silence. Peter ran as fast as he could, breathing shallowly as he flew through the park. Sure, a flannel shirt and jeans weren't the best clothes to run in; but he'd ran in much worse before, and the main focus was a quick burnout, not a cross-country. So Peter continued to sprint as fast as he could, the slap of sneakers against pavement the chorus to the song. As he ran Peter's mind drifted back to Beck, who'd risked a _hell of a lot _to get him here to exert this energy. Beck, his counsellor who seemed to care more about him than the rest of his students. Beck who he'd love to have filling him from the inside, solid warmth entering him from his behind and pressing against his-

It wasn't long before Peter felt his legs turning to jelly and slowed down, satisfied with the energy he'd burned off. At a jog, he headed back to Quentin, who was on his phone waiting for Peter's arrival. When his footsteps grew closer, Quentin finally looked up.

"Feel better?" He asked, taking Peter's grinning sweaty face into account. When Peter nodded, still catching his breath, Quentin nodded. "Well, you've only been gone seven minutes. But I think we should head back."

"Right." Peter nodded, a hand on his side.

"Also, um…" Quentin pulled a face, and reached over. "You should probably… Not that you can really, but uh, stop sweating." When Peter blinked, he continued. "It's just - it would look a bit, you know."

"Oh!" Peter exclaimed, quickly bringing his sleeve to absorb the moisture from his skin. "Fuck, sorry, right yeah of course. Thank you, Beck." There was a faint blush on his cheeks.

Quentin coughed awkwardly, before nodding with his head for Peter to follow him. Peter did obediently, and they both ventured back underground to head back to their house for the night. It was a little after twenty-past nine when they arrived back, and some of the students had already gone to bed, but the majority were in the living room still. When they closed the front door, some heads turned their way.

"'Sup Penis Parker?" Flash drawled out, but Peter ignored the remark and headed straight up to his room to take a shower. Once he'd stripped and gotten in, Peter allowed the hot water to soothe his tired muscles, feeling grateful for the strain that had been taken off of him by going for a run. Peter stayed in the shower for a while, simply standing under the hot jets and relishing in the way the steam seemed to soak into his muscles and ease the aches. Once he was suitably scrubbed, he climbed out of it and dried himself off with the towel before heading back into their room. When he spotted MJ on her bed, he felt the sudden urge to cover up for just a second, but as if she'd read his mind she spoke.

"I don't care. It means nothing."

Right.

Nodding, Peter headed back to his bed and put on some pajamas, using the towel to absorb the remaining moisture out of his hair.

"Did you fuck?"

"_No!_" Peter glared at her for a moment, before sighing. "I had to get some energy out. Because I'm Spider-Man, I've got all this … I don't know, it's like extra caffeine in my body and I need to burn it out constantly, you know? At home I can swing about all night freely, but I haven't been able to here. I thought I was gonna lose my freaking mind."

"Should've just fucked him." MJ murmured in response over the top of her phone.

"Wish I could. He told me to jack off."

"Haha, he _what_?"

"Yeah, well, he - you know, said it was probably - tension, I don’t know, and asked me if I -" Peter did the gesture with his hand, and MJ clasped a hand over her mouth to stifle the giggles.

"Please say you said yes."

Peter exhaled in defeat. "… I said yes."

"_Haha!_" She let out a cry of laughter, clapping her hands together.

"Come on man, I feel like everyone just wants to laugh at me."

"They do." MJ teased, and Peter threw a sock at her head with impeccable aim.

"I just went for a run. Honestly, I feel miles better for it. At least now I'm not shaking like a damn leaf."

"True. Maybe you'll sleep better?"

"Mm, maybe." Peter slipped under his duvet, plugging his charger into his phone and setting it down on the table. "I'm real tired."

"Go to sleep then!" MJ grinned, throwing his sock back at him. She was only an inch or so from hitting him in the face.

"Goodnight, then!" Peter grinned, rolling onto his side and releasing a small sigh.

"Goodnight, Peter." MJ replied, softer than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, i'm so sorry i hadn't posted !! i've not been having the best week haha, but i'm almost done with the last chapter and then i WILL post daily without fail lmao, again thank you all for the nice comments, it makes my day reading them and i appreciate every single one so much !! also i lowkey wanted Peter to make moves on Quentin in this chapter but it wouldn't have ended well for them if he had, i promise the wait is so much better :') <3


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter narrowly misses an injury and confides in Beck about his strained friendship.

Perhaps it was due to the class being chaperoned by their science teacher, but one of the days they ended up visiting the Science Museum in Kensington. They took a bus there, and planned to spend the best part of the day. Once they'd arrived, they split off into their groups and planned to meet back at just after lunch, so that they could go to Camden Market afterwards.

Peter would be lying if he said he was stunned by the exhibits; there were plenty of cool things on display, and a lot of visitors were in awe. But, after working so closely with Tony Stark and observing his technology, and after personally visiting _outer space_, Peter couldn't be shocked by much in the science department anymore.

At one of the outer space exhibits, Peter divulged this fact to MJ. "You know… I've actually been to outer space."

"No way?"

"Remember the day of the snap? We were on a field trip, and there was that huge space ship that everyone spotted. I disappeared, didn't I?"

"You did." MJ was grinning now, eyes sparkling.

"Tony Stark and Dr Strange were there, trying to make a truce with the invaders." Peter managed not to hesitate on Tony's name, which he was grateful for. "Well, things didn't go to plan, did they? And I got into my suit and went to help, and when Mr Stark and Dr Strange ended up on the ship, well, I kinda followed."

"No!" MJ's mouth was hung open now, all interest in the exhibit forgotten. Her attention was solely on Peter as he spoke.

"The aliens were like… Minions for Thanos I guess? The were looking for the Time Stone, and Dr Strange had that so they took him, right? And we were in this spaceship, Tony made me an avenger and we ended up on another planet and we met some other guys, one of them was from Earth, Missouri actually and he was with Thanos' daughter who Thanos took somewhere and it turns out, he killed her in exchange for the Soul Stone, and-"

"Peter get on with it!"

"Right, sorry so Thanos appeared, after Dr Strange did his little meditation thing, and we had to fight him and we lost because he said something that made Quill angry and he punched him while he was under Mantis' weird spell thing, and then he disappeared and we didn't know what to do because we were stuck, right, and then this blue girl appeared and she was also Thanos' daughter, Quill's girlfriend's sister who actually hates her sister and out of nowhere everyone started to disappear, and then I got all dusty and then, well…" After that, Peter's voice trailed into nothing, remembering what happened after. MJ, thankfully, was still processing everything he'd said and didn't press him further.

"You could breathe in space?"

"On the ship, and on the planet we were on, yeah, and I had the suit Mr Stark made for me so I could breathe when we were leaving the Earth's atmosphere."

"Tony made you a suit?"

"Yeah."

MJ suddenly got really quiet. An expression passed over her face, as though she had suddenly pieced everything together. Peter's depressive episodes after the snap, his relationship with Tony Stark, the nightmares… It all made so much sense. Without warning, she leaned forward and caught Peter in her arms. He'd tensed automatically, not at all expecting a hug from her. Though he soon warmed up to it, his own arms wrapping around her back and pressing his nose into her shoulder.

"That's incredible, Peter." Was all she said in response, soon pulling away and giving him an encouraging smile he mirrored. The rest of the visit was spent with Peter giving her brief stories of his experiences as Spider-Man, finally willing to divulge that part of himself to her.

But soon it was over, and the class were returning to their bus. Oddly enough, Peter still hadn't spoken to Ned. It must've been days by now. Peter didn't know what was going on between them, but it was starting to hurt the more time passed on. Part of him wanted to hash it out with him, but part of him also knew he didn't want anymore negative experiences on this trip, so he chose to ignore it, sitting down beside MJ again when he entered the bus. The distance between him and his best friend was really starting to affect him. At least he had MJ now, and Quentin, to an extent. But it wasn't the same. Peter missed Ned, but Ned didn't seem interested in him at all. Surely he should've been more caring now that Peter was getting better, but he'd been so cold and distant to Peter in recent weeks that he wasn't even sure if it was the case anymore.

There was a part of him that wondered if it was Betty. Like Quentin had said, first love was always the most passionate and Ned was probably just wanting to spend more time with her. But it didn't seem like it was just a case of misplaced priorities, but whenever Ned did look at him, Peter felt… Uneasy. Like Ned was mad at him about something, but he literally could not understand what. The paranoid part of his brain wondered if it was to do with MJ… After all, he hadn't seemed happy with their 'relationship' when MJ had discussed it with Betty, but that was just Peter worrying too much, right? Maybe he just had a lot of his mind. Peter just would've thought his best friend would at least talk to him during their trip, and as they were sharing a room it made for a tense atmosphere.

Whatever the case, Peter was just really grateful for MJ's support. Even if she hadn't picked up on the situation with Peter and Ned (which would be uncharacteristic for her, in all honesty), she was still being an amazing friend. And she was so supportive with Peter's double-life, and didn't once put Peter on edge about the situation, insisting it was his business and she should respect his privacy on that matter. A completely different outlook in comparison to Ned's response…

When they arrived in Camden, Peter's first destination was the infamous mac and cheese van he'd seen on an Instagram page once, assuring the viewers that it was THE go-to mac and cheese in London. MJ agreed with his decision, adding that she too had seen the post and was excited to try it out. It was the first place they visited, and oh _man _was it worth the queue. As they ate together on a wall, Peter couldn't even stop the moans of appreciation from spilling past his lips, something MJ found amusing. Honestly, Peter wasn't even sure he'd ever had mac and cheese _anywhere _this good before. Needless to say he ended up buying another pot.

The pair visited Camden Market shortly after, and Peter's spidey-senses were going haywire. It was something he couldn't quite put his finger on; MJ had mentioned that Camden was notorious for crime, and he'd believed her, but he couldn't see anything going on so why were his senses all off? Maybe it was to do with Ned's cold shoulder, and eventually he believed it. With a deep exhale, he followed MJ into the markets and watched her try on a bunch of different outfits, laughing at some ridiculous that were partnered with oversized sunglasses but catcalling the one time she tried on a long dark dress he'd begged her to put on.

"Never. Again." She replied tonelessly, ignoring the cheers from Peter but allowing a small grin to grace her lips before she disappeared.

Needless to say, she bought the dress.

The anxiety around Peter's situation with Ned refused to vanish, however. Although Peter was having an incredible time with MJ, he couldn't help but overthink every small detail. _Was _Ned mad at him? Does Betty know? Does he know about Quentin? Is he cutting Peter off completely? _If he did would he ever out Peter's identity-_

"You seem stressed. Is everything okay?"

"Totally!" Peter replied in an instant, not wanting to cause MJ any concern with his paranoia. Surely everything would be fine. "Just taking everything in."

Unconvinced, MJ nodded and the pair continued to explore. They had little conversation after that, simply taking photographs of the area and buying an ice cream later on. It wasn't long before Mr Harrington had called everyone back to meet and start heading back to the house. A few people had complained, but the majority were tired after a long day of walking. Peter felt perfectly fine, but maybe that was due to his enhanced stamina. Regardless, the group began heading back towards the tube station.

That's when Peter got a particularly aggressive warning go off in his head and he glanced around nervously. Ned and MJ were in front of him, Quentin and Mr Harrington slightly further ahead. Everyone seemed okay… Until Peter noticed a man with his eyes trained on Ned's back pocket. Peter's followed, and he noticed Ned's phone was sticking out slightly and in perfect range for grabbing. Before he could say anything though, the man had crossed the distance between them both and grabbed it. Immediately, he'd taken off, but Peter didn't think before sprinting after him. He heard Mr Harrington call his name behind him, but he flew after the man, eventually catching up with him and launching himself at him. They struggled for the phone, but Peter's grip was stronger and the man dropped it to the floor. Peter went to glance at it, but the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he saw movement. His hand flew up instantly, and caught the man's wrist. There were a few shocked gasps from onlookers, when Peter noticed a blade in the man's fist. A sudden panic coursed through his veins like liquid ice, chilling him from the inside out. The man struggled, attempting to pull his hand out of Peter's iron grip and plunge the blade into his body. But thanks to his enhanced strength, Peter dodged it and tightened his fingers around the man's wrist, feeling a crunch under his fingers and finally releasing the man when he cried out in agony and dropped the blade. Before he could run, Peter grabbed both of his wrists and pinned him to the floor effortlessly, though he made sure not to make too much of a scene as this time, he had no mask to hide his identity. Underneath him, the man growled and writhed, but Peter was stronger. "I don't think so." He hissed, using his knee to press into the mans back and pinning the man's wrists behind his back. Seconds later, Quentin was by his side and people were taking photos. Peter flinched at the flashes, but felt relief flood through him as Beck aided him, or at least made it look like he was helping. Quentin glanced at Peter with worry in his eyes, dropping to his knees.

"Are you alright? Did he hurt you?"

"I'm fine!" Peter promised, only then noticing how breathless he was. It had been weeks since he'd stopped an actual crime; his heart hammered in his throat, especially with the thought of so many people observing him without his mask. Hopefully he'd made it look relatively realistic.

Mr Harrington helped Peter to his feet, and despite his urges to stay with the criminal until the cops arrived, Peter knew here it wasn't his place. A couple of other guys had got down to help Quentin keep the man pinned, and MJ was at his side in moments. Her hand found his, and her grip on him crushed his fingers.

"Are you okay?" She asked panickedly, eyes wide in concern. Everyone kept looking between Peter and the man on the floor.

"I'm okay, honestly. I couldn't…" His voice lowered on the second sentence, and she nodded. It was his nature to stop crimes. Why would he let criminal steal Ned's phone when he had the power to stop it?

Peter turned and soon locked eyes with Ned. Then he remembered the phone, which was laying cracked on the concrete a few meters away. Peter grabbed it, and handed it back to him. Okay, maybe now was the time to hash it out. Neither of them spoke for a moment, though. Until…

"Thanks, man."

Perhaps not the apology Peter had hoped for, but it was better than nothing. Peter simply nodded, his face grim. "it's nothing, really."

When the police arrived to arrest the man, Quentin finally got back to his feet and focused his attention to Peter again.

"Are you sure you're alright? No… _Secret injuries_?" The last part was quiet, and his eyes were serious. Peter simply shook his head, and Quentin sighed a strained sigh of relief. "Phew. Oh, man you had me worried. That was so brave, Peter."

"Honestly, it wasn't… It was nothing." He said again, bashfully. In a way, Peter felt a little smug about the dislike obviously painted over both Flash and Brad's faces. Surely they'd leave him alone now?

Oh, but of course not. Not when Peter's life was so painfully _miserable._

Getting back to the house _without _anyone getting stabbed on the way seemed like a top priority for Mr Harrington, and they soon rushed home. As most people had eaten whilst they were out, Beck had mentioned that there were snacks in the cupboards for anyone that was still hungry later on or they could order themselves a takeout. And although Peter definitely could've gone for Chinese food at that moment in time, MJ didn't seem hungry and Ned and Betty weren't really talking to him. So he settled for some Doritos and took off to his room to have some time alone and indulge in his thoughts and worries. There were already several articles about the prevented pick-pocketing and there were photos of Peter he wasn't particularly comfortable with being online, but none of which had his name published (yet), so there wasn't enough to worry about. Honestly, Peter was just impressed that he managed to go on vacation and still ended up stopping crime. It wasn't long before Ned, MJ and Betty returned to go to sleep though (how had time passed so quickly? Peter could've sworn they only just arrived back) and the hostility was back. Peter found it difficult to fall asleep knowing that Ned was so bitter with him, and he just couldn't understand why. Peter had literally done nothing to him this entire trip. It got to around twelve in the morning, when Peter finally decided he'd had enough and left the room, unable to sleep with his thoughts so angry in his head, and he headed downstairs. When he saw a glowing light in the living room, though, he froze; who was awake?

When he headed in there, he realised it was Quentin and immediately regretted his decision. But, when the man turned to glance at who had entered the room, Peter felt all that regret melt away. Perhaps he'd wanted to talk to Quentin, really? After all, he hadn't had much time to really… _Talk about his feelings_, since he'd been away.

"Hey, you feeling alright?" Quentin asked, a small smile on his face. He didn't seem angry at Peter for being out of bed during curfew, but there wasn't technically a rule against being out of bed; it was just the house, right?

"Couldn't sleep." Peter admitted, taking a seat on the sofa behind Quentin and immediately feeling his anxiety lessen in the man's presence.

"What you did earlier was really brave. I know you do it on a daily basis, but seeing that knife just… It took it out of me, I was so worried that you were going to…" Quentin trailed off, and he didn't have to finish his sentence for Peter to understand what he was going to say.

"I'm alright, really. My…" He paused. "Like, sixth sense I guess? It had been acting funny since we were there, and I knew crime was supposed to be pretty high in Camden but I hadn't seen anything, but I guess with pick-pockets you _can't see _so I knew it was happening but I couldn't… It was just lucky I saw, you know? He could've hurt anyone."

"You're right, it is lucky no one was hurt." Quentin smiled warmly at Peter.

"Can I talk to you about something?" Peter asked awkwardly. It was still difficult for him to ask for help, even when he knew it was right in front of him.

"Always, Peter."

"I feel like since we've been in Europe, Ned has been even more distant from me… He won't talk to me unless he absolutely has to, and it's really, really worrying me, like a lot. I don't know why he's so mad at me, either… But I'm just worried, you know? I don't know what to do."

"Hmm…" Quentin brushed his hand over his chin and thought for a moment. "I'm not sure either, Peter… I would've thought by now he'd be more secure in his relationship with Betty, and he would be able to focus more attention on you but things seem to have gotten worse. This is purely speculation, but do you think it's to do with MJ?"

"MJ? Why would she have anything to do with it."

"Well, since Ned stopped spending more time with you, you've been spending more time with _her _and, whilst that might be his own doing, he might be hurt by it. People's minds work in strange ways, and sometimes we can hurt ourselves without truly meaning to. And with your… 'Fake relationship', perhaps he might be even more hurt that you hadn't confided in him-"

"He never confided in me!" Peter replied hotly, suddenly annoyed at his friend. "Why should I have to tiptoe around him when he can drop me whenever he likes?"

"No, I'm not saying that Peter. It's just that, well, people never really know what they want until it's gone."

That hit Peter like a ton of bricks. Immediately he thought of Tony's lifeless body, and all the wind was knocked out of his lungs.

"Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah!" Peter's response was strained, and he took a couple of breaths to calm himself down. "Just… Thinking."

"I know. I hope it turns out okay though, Peter. This stress can't be good for you."

"Thank you. I just hope Ned tells me what's going on…"

"When the time's right."

"Right."

Peter glanced up at Quentin again, his dark eyes meeting with crystal blue. They were only on him, worried. An overwhelming urge to just _kiss him right there _came over him, and Peter had to physically fight it. Quentin's lips were slightly parted, so soft and kissable. And Peter was just inches from his face. It would be so easy…

But he snapped his gaze away, angry at himself for even thinking it. This was getting him nowhere, and acting on his impulses would only get the both of them into trouble and ruin whatever they had going. Peter wasn't ready to lose that, not yet. So he swallowed down his fantasies and instead glanced up at the glowing TV screen, instead focusing his full attention on that.

Oh, he was so _fucked. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg i am,,, SO sorry i haven't uploaded in so long??? I AM THE WORLDS BIGGEST LIAR!!!! I had to go and visit family on the other side of the country and i saw a friend too while i was down, but a lot of things happened too and i'm not going to go into detail because i know you guys won't want to hear it, but i haven't been in the best place mentally and i needed to take some time for myself. BUT- hopefully i should have this fic finished and published by next week (catch me making promises i fail to keep yet again lmfaoo i'll try harder this time i promise,,) <3 also, protective quentin is SO fucking hot ufhgh i love one (1) man


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A game of truth or dare goes badly wrong and Peter can't stop himself from walking away.

All of the countries Peter had visited so far had been gorgeous. Venice had gorgeous towns and rivers. Paris was full of patisseries and golden lights and amazing food. London was tall and electric, and the most similar to home so far. But Barcelona was tropical and sandy, definitely more of a lazy vacation in comparison to the other three.

When they arrived at their villa, also beach front like their property in Venice, almost everyone had taken to the beach or pool. There was room to play volleyball again, but with the situation Peter was having with Ned, he didn't feel as though that was an option. MJ would surely play with him, but Peter was so condensed in his own thoughts that he had taken up the idea to go for a walk alone. The sand was soft beneath his bare feet, not hot enough to hurt as he walked out of the shade. There were a gathering of trees a little while away where he planned to sit with his thoughts for a while.

There were only four days left of the trip. It seemed surreal how for over a week and a half Peter had been in Europe, losing his best friend whilst simultaneously gaining another. And despite his best intentions, Peter had felt himself growing more attached to Quentin. He was certain he was going to miss waking up to Quentin's presence, and falling asleep under the same roof after spending the day with him close by. An hour a day didn't seem to be much anymore. And there were things that had happened, that Peter wouldn't have imagined to have ever in a million years take place. It seemed Quentin really cared for Peter; after all, how many teachers would risk their jobs in order to calm down a student? Sneaking him to Hyde Park to protect his identity and simultaneously prevent a panic attack was bending over backwards for him. It was reassuring to know that Quentin had his back, and that he wasn't ever going to be at risk of his identity being leaked. Well, not by Beck's hand, anyway. 

Peter was still wary of the situation with Ned. Beck had made some good points in reference to his friendship with MJ, but Peter still couldn't understand how spending time with her because Ned was avoiding _him _was his fault. They'd been best friends for so long that Peter didn't want to just give that up; but with the way things were going, it looked like he didn't have much of a choice.

That is, until Ned's figure became visible and Peter felt himself tense at the coming conflict. Wordlessly, Peter eyed him up as he approached, and remained silent when his friend sat beside him.

"I know I've been a bit of a dick-" Ned started, but Peter interrupted.

"A bit of an understatement." There was no venom in his words, just clarity.

"Okay, a huge dick. I don't really have an excuse for it, and I'm sorry Peter. I've been blowing you off to spend more time with my girlfriend and I didn't know how much that hurt until you got together with MJ."

_Oh, _so that's what this was about. Peter went to open his mouth and argue, but Ned continued.

"We're in Europe, man. We shouldn't be avoiding each other because of girls, and I know you needed me and I wasn't really there for you…" Ned's voice trailed off. Clearly he was referencing the nightmare. "But I'm glad Mr Beck sorted it out, and that MJ looked after you. I should've done more."

"It's fine, Ned. You couldn't have done anything." Peter replied, not untruthfully. "This whole vacation has been wild, and bad and fun and one of the most memorable experiences I've had in my life. So much has happened, good and bad, and I'm glad you were part of it. Are." A small smile appeared, and Peter looked up at Ned. "I don't like not talking."

"Me either."

"Can we just forget this? It's so dumb and I wanna enjoy the last few days with you and MJ and Betty."

Ned nodded in response, both boys now wearing a huge grin. They leaned over and hugged for a moment, before Peter clapped Ned's back and got to his feet. "Wanna go play some volleyball?"

For a while they did, and Peter used the time to his best ability to burn off some energy. Quentin materialised out of nowhere at one point and spectated, his eyes never once leaving Peter. He cheered them on, and a small gathering of people had appeared to join. It wasn't long before Peter and MJ were facing off against Brad and Flash. As the two people Peter disliked the _most _on the trip, Peter was _so _ready to wipe the smirks off of both of their faces. The entire class was watching now, and MJ gave Peter a grin as she positioned herself. Oh, those two were so going to regret opening their mouths.

Feeling Quentin's watchful eye on him gave Peter the added confidence he probably didn't need, and soon they were playing. Finally, the thrill of it was coursing through his body, numbing like nicotine. Peter hadn't exerted himself to this extent since the last time he was in patrol. There'd been a robbery, and there must have been over ten guys, but Peter managed to take them all on with ease. There were cheers from everyone, most people cheering on Brad but a good portion yelling for Peter and MJ, too. Ned, Betty and Quentin included. When Peter and MJ took the lead effortlessly, a lot of people switched sides and there was a lot of support for them by the end of the match. It only added to the atmosphere, and soon, MJ had the winning hit and an eruption of cheers broke out a wide grin on Peter's face. Quentin was clapping, and that's all that Peter was concerned with. With a cheeky smirk, he glanced at Beck, who winked in response at him, and Peter turned back to his competitors with a smug look on his face. Their own expressions were priceless.

To celebrate their victory (or, because nobody wanted to cook and everyone was very overexcited), the class ventured out of the villa to go for a meal. Peter's spirits were high after making amends with Ned and hitting Flash in the face with a volleyball, and he was practically skipping through the streets. It wasn't dark yet, but the sun was beginning to wane already. Finally, the heat cooled off to a much more bearable temperature and Peter pulled his hoodie on over his shirt. He duly noted that Quentin was wearing a pair of black skinny jeans; they did wonders for his ass, and Peter followed behind closely, subtly checking it out every once in a while. MJ knew exactly what he was up to and left him to it, which he was thankful for. At one point Quentin turned around and almost caught him staring; Peter managed to take his eyes off of him long enough to glance towards MJ and make it look like he was in conversation with her, until the man looked away again and Peter could resume his perving. What, he was a hormonal teenager! Give him a break!

They ate by the sea together, thankful for a table large enough for everyone to sit around it with room to actually eat without their elbows knocking. There was a faint breeze that ruffled Peter's curls, and he tugged the hoodie closer around his body, watching the waves of the ocean lap against the sand. There was a pleasant atmosphere at the restaurant, and Peter was stunned when Quentin and Mr Harrington both ordered a glass of red wine; not that they didn't deserve it, Peter just hadn't seen them drink before. They deserved a night off, really.

Everyone was well behaved, and for once Flash didn't act out and piss everyone off. The food was incredible, and the chocolate fudge cake Peter ordered for dessert was rich and sweet. MJ stole a forkful and kissed his cheek afterwards as thanks, leaving the faintest trace of chocolate sauce behind which she wiped off with a napkin. Peter grinned at her, snaking an arm around her shoulders. Although there were no romantic feelings between them, it sure was nice being able to be affectionate with someone after so many months of being touch-starved. Only MJ and Quentin had given into Peter, and he was so thankful for it that he couldn't help but crave more. And to his luck, MJ didn't seem to mind the attention and it kept people off their backs, which is exactly what they both wanted. All in all, it was a win, really.

They stayed out later that night, Quentin and Mr Harrington happy with returning a little later to the villa after such a pleasant experience. After leaving the restaurant they all went exploring, and the sun had finally set to be replaced with a brightly shining moon. There were clouds covering the best part of the heavens, but some persistent stars still shone through the vapours. Peter and MJ were holding hands with each other again as they walked, observing the architecture and taking selfies. At one point, Peter noticed Quentin walking alone and broke away from MJ for a moment, leaving her with Ned and Betty in order to keep him company. Quentin hadn't seemed particularly bothered he was alone, but he perked up even more when Peter joined him to discuss the architecture of the buildings. Peter finally bit the bullet and asked Beck if he could take a selfie. It felt like a bit of a dangerous question; for some reason Peter was terrified for his response. Quentin glanced at him for a moment, persuaded by those big brown eyes, before nodding.

"Come here, then."

So Peter did, quickly retrieving his phone from his pocket and turning the camera towards the pair. Quentin's arm quickly slipped around Peter's shoulders and at the shock contact, Peter almost dropped his phone. But he recovered fast, and snapped the picture. Both smiling hard, a glowing streetlight in the background and someone accidentally photobombing. Luckily the front flash was on so that the features of their faces were actually visible, and the pair were _beaming. _Quentin's arm round Peter was visible in the photo, which made Peter's chest tighten that much more. When he lowered the phone, Quentin rubbed his shoulder, arm still holding him close. "No, take a few more!"

Peter blinked in surprise at the request and, perhaps too enthusiastically, nodded and lifted his phone again. This time, Quentin stuck his tongue out at the camera and Peter did the same. The next snapshot was of the pair laughing, slightly blurry from where Peter's hand had shook as he laughed, but somehow it was his favourite one. Quentin patted his shoulder, before, finally, removing his arm. Peter mourned the loss and slipped his phone back into his pocket, but was feeling considerably more giddy. Removing the smile from his lips that night would prove to be near impossible.

\--

The next day was … _eventful _to say the least. Apparently there was a food festival nearby, and many of the students were up for going out, Peter included. In fact, everyone ended up coming out to try some new foods and explore the city a little more. The festival ended up being _huge; _there were hundreds of stalls lined along the street, and an overwhelming number of scents hitting Peter at once with his heightened senses. But man, did they smell good. Quentin had mentioned that after the festival they'd be heading over to a waterpark as a class, so warned anyone against eating too much, and Peter had a really hard time with that. His stomach growled mercilessly, and it was all he could do to not buy everything in sight. With difficulty, he ended up sharing a basket of churros with MJ and trying some samples of chorizo and Spanish cheeses, which were incredible. It was loud and amiable, the crowds of people providing a sense of familiarity to Peter. His arm was interlinked with MJ's, not wanting to risk losing her to the masses of people swarming the street. As they walked, they shared the churros and Peter couldn't help but mirror the gesture she'd done last night and wipe away a trace of chocolate at the corner of her lips. She smiled at him, lips dusted with sugar grains, and he shook his head, laughing. It was a pleasant experience, and Peter was almost upset when they were all called back.

That is, until he was reminded that soon he'd be swimming with Beck in arguably one of the best waterparks in Europe (but who was Peter to judge? It was his only waterpark experience in Europe).

And it was, in Peter's opinion, the best waterpark he'd ever been to. There were numerous slides, more pools than he could count, and there was also the added bonus of his shirtless counsellor. That perhaps sold it for him.

The group chose one of the bigger pools first, as Peter wanted to show off his diving (to an extent… He couldn't exactly jump six feet into the air in a public pool) to his friends. They headed over to an end that wasn't busy, Ned with his goggles on ready, and Peter braced himself at the edge of the pool. Then, he took off, ignoring the 'no running' sign and launching into the air to do a flip before landing perfectly into the water. It was pleasantly warm, unlike some of the freezing pools he'd been to in Queens, and he mentioned it to MJ, who replied with "that's because it's filled with thousands of people's piss". Needless to say, Peter was horrified and she simply grinned at him before climbing in. "But it's also full of chlorine so it's probably all sterilised by now."

Peter wasn't entirely convinced.

The four of them continued to dive into the pool, mostly impressed with Peter's perfect form, until one of the lifeguards over and gave them a telling off for ignoring the signs. They all ended up bursting out with laughter once he'd walked away, and ended up doing handstands and cartwheels under water. Betty challenged Peter to see how long he could hold his breath for underwater, and she won (she actually won!). Eventually though, they got out to explore the other pools and slides available at the park.

As they walked, Peter spotted Quentin alone in one of the hot tubs and desperately craved to join him; but he knew deep down it was impossible. How weird would it look if he was joining Mr Harrington in a hot tub? Just because Quentin was friendly _and _hot, it didn't mean he could just spend his vacation with him. People would notice and say something.

But he was just sat there, alone… Perfect chest just above the water, dark hair damp from the water and clinging to his bronzed skin. Beck had his eyes closed, clearly taking the time to relax alone. Peter wondered if he was stressed from the trip, and if those jets of water were doing good for his tense muscles. His mind wandered to when Quentin had massaged the aloe vera into his shoulders, pressing down on specific points of his back in order to lessen the tension. How he'd carelessly stated that hot water was good for soothing tight muscles. Peter couldn't help but wonder how it would feel, to fuck Quentin in the hot tub surrounded by all of those jets of hot water….

Before his mind could get too carried away with the thought, Peter tore his eyes away from the mesmerising sight across from him and followed behind his friends. God, it sucked having a crush on the one person he'd never in a million years be able to have. And even with knowing that fact, his feelings just grew stronger the more Peter spent time with him. Honestly, he wasn't even sure he'd be able to hold out much longer. Peter had never, ever felt like this in his life and it was shiny and new and he wanted to indulge in it, he really did. Nothing was ever that simple for him, though, so he just had to deal with the fact that he's never be able to even confess to his feelings for him to anyone besides MJ. That was just the harsh reality of it.

When Peter was in line for one of the slides, a kid with Spider-Man swimming trunks was queuing in front of him. Peter had a cocky grin on his lips, something MJ hadn't missed, and she was rolling her eyes.

"Hey, I like your shorts." Peter knelt down by the kid, who had a grin on his face.

"Thanks. They're Spider-Man trunks!"

"That's awesome, man!" Peter grinned, watching the kid's face light up at the conversation.

"Hey, I'm actually really good friends with Spider-Man, he's a great guy." MJ joined in, also kneeling down beside Peter. "Want me to tell him you're a fan?"

"Yeah!" The kid looked ecstatic, and was rocking on his feet. The expression on his face made Peter's day.

"I'm sure I can figure something out." Peter promised, high-fiving the kid. "You know, I used to work as an intern for Iron Man and that's how I know him."

"That's soooo cool!"

"Right? I'll make sure to tell him you said hi, what's your name?"

"Caleb."

"I'll tell him Caleb says hi, alright?"

"Thank you, sir!"

"It's Peter." Peter had a wide smile on his face. Kids were too fucking cute. "You're up, Caleb!"

The kid gave him a smile, and Peter watched him go hurtling down the slide.

"You always this nice to kids?" MJ asked coyly, giving him a look.

"What? I'm just your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man. I'm nice to _everybody._"

MJ rolled her eyes and gave Peter a shove when it was his turn, ignoring his side-glare.

The rest of the trip was spent with Peter daydreaming about his teacher, wondering what it would be like if things were different and Quentin was actually a student. And if he liked him back? Peter would actually legally be allowed to be with him; but because of their age difference, it just wasn't possible. It was hard to imagine, what it would really be like in a world where Peter could be with him. A world where he wasn't nervous about talking to him in case anyone noticed, scared of looking at him for slightly too long in case somebody saw him looking at a teacher in a way that _wasn't _the usual disgust most students shared for their teachers. The situation sucked, but simultaneously gave him a new anchor to cling onto, as before he met Quentin Peter was barely able to grasp reality; now, Peter was thriving, and well on the way to a full recovery. The trauma would always be there, of course, but it was manageable in comparison to how it was a few months ago. Really, for that Peter was grateful. Even if it hurt trying to keep his feelings locked in a cage with the key melted back to iron.

Once they'd returned to their villas, there was a lot of whispering going round and a new atmosphere; Betty soon found out that a bunch of kids had gone to a sketchy convenience store while they were out and managed to grab some cheap spirits, and they planned to play truth or dare after curfew. She'd been asked if they were going to join and Peter was hesitant at first; could he even get drunk with his hypo-metabolism? But soon he agreed, and to his shock so did MJ and Ned. Although Peter was nervous, there was a giddy excitement bubbling in his core at the thought of doing a _normal teenage thing _for once in his damn life. Peter hadn't actually touched alcohol before, so this would be a new experience. He just hoped he didn't end up spilling any of his multiple dark secrets if he ended up too intoxicated.

They eventually found themselves all crammed into Flash's room, a few bottles of vodka and hard liquors laid out on the floor. Beck and Mr Harrington had seen them off and gone to bed, so now it was just the best part of the class and a lot of alcohol. Peter could feel Brad's glare on him from the other side of the room and felt a little uneasy, but he was Spider-Man God dammit! A dirty look from one of his classmates shouldn't intimidate him so much!

Several shots in, Peter was starting to feel a little less tense. There was a warmth blossoming in his core, relaxing some of the tense muscles with the more he drank despite the initial burn of the fluid passing down his throat. Okay, so maybe vodka didn't taste as good as they made it look in the movies. It wasn't going to stop him.

Betty, it appeared, was a lightweight, but Ned and MJ hadn't touched more than a shot each. Perhaps it was first time nerves? It wasn't Peter's problem, really.

Eventually after necking as many shots as he could get his hands on, it was his turn, and Flash asked him 'Truth or dare'.

He answered truth.

"Have you ever met Tony Stark?"

Amidst the buzz in his body, Peter felt a sharp pang in his stomach. Really he should've seen it coming.

"I was his intern." Peter replied coolly, giving Flash a scowl. "I don't know why you don't believe me."

"It's just sooooo unlikely. You aren't even that good at anything, no offence. Well, except kissing ass." There were a few giggles. Peter tilted his head in confusion.

"What do you mean by that?"

"You're like, obsessed with Mr Beck. Like, he isn't even all that. He's pretty fucking annoying."

"I'm not?" Peter gave Flash a confused look to hide his sudden anger. "He's just my counsellor."

"Nah, I think you're just queer, Peter." A few shocked murmurs. No one said anything. Flash didn't seem intent on stopping just there, though. "I think you wanna suck his dick, just like you fantasised about sucking Stark's. But you know what? You're a fucking faggot, and Beck's only talking to you because it's his job. He's paid to do it. And you'll never suck his dick, just like you'll never suck Stark's because he got what's coming to him, and everyone in here knows it."

There was silence in the room. It took a few moments to register in Peter's mind what Flash had even said, and the humiliation burned more than the shots he'd taken moments ago. His eyes were hot, shining with tears, but Peter couldn't bring himself to speak. Everyone was watching now, and MJ said something harsh in response to Flash, but Peter was still stuck in his own head. "I saw Tony die. And it was traumatising. Be thankful you'll never have to experience anything like it."

The words had left Peter's lips before he could filter them, and he was on his feet. Surprisingly he was steady, but his vision blurred through the tears. He was calmer than he thought he'd be, and would've been grateful if he could actually think straight. "Just fuck off." He muttered darkly, turning on his heel and leaving the room. There were a few murmurs as he left, but Peter refused to address them, simply wanting to put as much distance as possible from himself and everyone in it. It seemed like a good idea to head down to the beach, despite the nagging voice that said he probably shouldn't. Why was that?

Despite it, Peter left the villa without even putting any shoes on and made his way down the steps. It would've been chilly if he wasn't so buzzed from the shots he'd taken, so he didn't bring a hoodie. Instead, he just walked and walked and walked, until he found a suitable place to collapse onto his ass on the floor and cross his legs. The sand was cold yet soft beneath his fingers and felt a comfort in dipping them in, feeling the grains pass through them as he scooped. The sea was calm, a few waves lapping up and a non-existent breeze causing his arms to prickle with goosebumps. It mirrored how he felt perfectly. Although there was fury at Flash for outing him so publicly like that, and distress at the subject of Tony being so insensitively derided, there was a numbness perhaps from the alcohol at knowing that maybe Flash was right. Maybe he had been obvious with his feelings for Quentin. And, like he'd said, it was an impossible situation. Peter's feelings would never be reciprocated, so why was he even trying? It was in vain. Peter had just been clinging to what little happiness he could after so much emptiness, that it was beginning to become overwhelming. It was stupid, it was so fucking stupid. Quentin was a grown man, and Peter was a child. What the fuck was he even thinking?

Peter glanced up at the sky, noting the clouds weren't visible that night. Seeing the stars twinkle so innocently made his chest hurt. It just flooded his vulnerable mind with memories of being out there, in _outer fucking space _with Tony in an attempt to save the whole world. Back when the world had, in return, come crashing down on him like a ton of lead bricks. How incredible it was to know of all of the other galaxies out there, swarming with alien life and thriving when no one down here knew a thing. Peter knew if he mentioned it, no one would believe him. There had been the attacks in 2012 and the return in 2018 but people tended to dismiss facts with little evidence backing them up. And who would believe Peter, a scrawny little kid from Queens who was once a Stark intern and nothing more? At least, that's all they knew. Memories of coral galaxies flooded with clusters of opaline gases materialised before him, almost slotting into the sky above perfectly. Peter stared, enthralled by the sight before him and reaching a hand up above his head to touch the stars. With the movement he fell onto his back, and his vision was now entirely clouded with marbled galaxies entwined with moons and planets. No bloodshed, no loss. Just the sheer beauty of _out there, _something he'd never be able to describe to anyone. Peter's head was fuzzy with it. It was almost as ethereal as Quentin.

"Peter!"

Quentin. He was epitome of beauty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> iTS HAPPENING ITS HAPPENING omg i've been dragging this out for so long,,,, the next chapter,,,,,,, t h a t 's w h e r e i t 's a t . I still need to get the last chapter finished (i'm such a worm i'm sorry lmfao) but i promise it'll be worth it,, but in conclusion i can't stop thinking about quentin fucking peter in a hottub lmao i WISH i could've added that in !!!!!111!!1!!1!!!!11!!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter acts on his impulses and wakes up with a raging hangover.

"Hey. What are you doing out here? You know you can't just walk out whenever you feel like it, and I didn't expect this from you at all."

Dazed, Peter turned his head to see a sideways Quentin looking very stressed. Peter smiled widely at the man, who didn't seem one bit amused. "Hey."

"Are…" Quentin frowned, and got to his knees beside Peter, peering at him curiously. "Are you drunk?"

"No. I feel good, though. Like, amazing right now."

Quentin bit back a laugh. The situation was near ridiculous. "Come on. Sit up." With an arm behind Peter's back, he helped him into a sitting position before settling next to him in the sand. When he felt the shivers coursing through his body, Beck sighed exasperatedly. "Oh my god, you're freezing. Why didn't you bring a jacket?"

"I'm not cold." Peter replied, but despite his answer Quentin had pulled off his hoodie and pulled it over Peter's shoulders. It was a navy green, the one he'd been wearing the night before at the restaurant. Peter's favourite.

"Put this on." He instructed, rubbing Peter's back as he slipped his arms into the hoodie. "You're gonna be the death of me, kid…" There was a moment's silence between the two as Peter held the hoodie close to his body, enveloped in Beck's warmth. If he wanted to, he could probably fall asleep then and there in the comfort of the material.

"Brad told me you left the villa in a hurry. What are you doing out here, Peter?"

"Ugh, fucking Brad-"

"Easy. What did he do?"

"It was Flash. Basically told me I'd never suck Tony's dick because he's dead, and uhh… Told everyone I'm gay and told me to stop tonguing your asshole."

Quentin grimaced at the word choice, and the brutal honesty. "Were you all drinking?"

"Some."

"Damn kids." Quentin shook his head, but he didn't look angry. More concerned. "Are you alright?"

"I was thinking. About the time I went to space. It was so pretty, it's just amazing to think there's so much more to the universe than just us on this dying rock, you know? If I try hard enough, I can see it." He squinted up at the sky again.

"Not many people can say they've witnessed the things you have, Peter." Quentin breathed, also glancing up at the sky. Although they were looking at totally different galaxies. "It must be a lot."

"It is. But it's worth it." Peter tore his eyes away from the sky for a moment, taking his mind off of other worlds to observe _his _world. Quentin hadn't looked away just yet, his eyes still focused up ahead. "But there are other things, that are so much more. That make life worth living, you know?"

"I'm glad to hear that." Finally, Quentin glanced his way. There were thousands of galaxies swimming in his irises, and Peter was captivated.

"Do you hate me?" Peter finally asked, succumbing to the question that had laid on his tongue since he left the villa.

"Why would you ever think that?" Quentin asked in return, frowning at Peter. "I could never hate you."

"Do you only like me because I'm Spider-Man?"

"No, Peter."

"Do you like me?"

"Of course."

That was all the confirmation he needed to move in. Peter moved forward and his lips finally met with Quentin's, soft and warm against his own needy. The weight of the world was suddenly lifted from his shoulders, and Peter shifted forward, lips still on the man's. There was no response from the other, besides a sudden stiffness at the contact. The feeling of Quentin on Peter was enough to ground him to the present, sparks beginning to crackle in his core and flourish into something desperate and needy. Peter went to pull Quentin closer to him when the man quickly pulled away. His eyes were wide open, staring at Peter with a mix of shock and horror. That heat in Peter's stomach quickly fizzled out, replaced with a cold dread. "What is it?"

"You're drunk." Was all Quentin said in response, his fingers wrapping around Peter's wrist when the kid tried to touch his cheek.

"No, no I'm not drunk. I know what I want."

"No, you're highly intoxicated and you're acting under impulse. Peter, this is not what you want and we both know it." Quentin released Peter's wrist, who was looking at him with a mixture of guilt and hurt.

"No I- I do, I want you-!"

"Listen to me, Peter! You're drunk, you don't know what you're doing. It's okay, I understand. We need to go back to the villa."

"I don't want to-" Peter whined, making another move on Quentin but failing to make his lips meet anything other than air. Quentin dodged his advance, and got to his feet.

"I mean it, Peter, or I'll be calling your aunt."

Peter stuck his lip out, refusing to move from where he was on the sand. If Quentin was going to be difficult, so was he. "I'm going nowhere." He muttered darkly, testing the waters.

"I'll carry you back inside if you don't get up." Quentin warned, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, and Peter felt himself becoming very giddy.

"No." He challenged, satisfied with the look of disgruntlement on Beck's face. At that, Peter suddenly felt hands on his body and squirmed ,ticklish, but he was still drunk and he wasn't adversely against Quentin taking him into his strong arms. After all, he was still craving Beck's skin on his. When he was effortlessly lifted up and over Quentin's shoulder, Peter couldn't prevent the little _whoop!_ that left his lips as he was suddenly flipped upside down, and his stomach rolled in excitement. A string of giggles left his lips, and the hand on Peter's thigh holding him in place definitely would've stirred up an erection if he could see straight- instead, Peter was graced with the sight of the back of Quentin's legs, swaying slightly as he walked. "I didn't know you were so strong." Peter quipped, feeling slightly dizzy with the movement as Quentin walked back to the villa.

"I didn’t know you could behave like such a child." Quentin replied, but it wasn't cold. There was the faintest trace of humour in his tone that made Peter giggle again.

"I didn't wanna go back."

"Well, Peter, if I was a normal teacher, you'd be being dragged along the floor right now by your collar and probably sent back home tomorrow for breaking one of the biggest rules."

"Ouch…. Good thing you're not a 'normal teacher' and you like me so much, huh?"

"Don't push it, kid. How you holding up back there?"

"I feel sick."

"Well, if you throw up on me while I'm carrying you I'll definitely send you home." Quentin joked lightly. "We're almost there. Next time you'll be grown up and walk yourself."

"Yeah, yeah…"

When Quentin finally stopped walking and placed Peter back down on his feet, the dizziness had started to subside. Peter lost his balance for a moment, and Quentin caught him before he stumbled back and hurt himself. He giggled out a small "thank you" before stabilising himself again and allowing Quentin to escort him back inside.

"I mean it, you come back out of your room before eight and you'll be in a lot more trouble than you already are Peter. Underage drinking isn't something I'll take lightly."

"Hey, it's legal here!" Peter protested as Quentin ushered him up the stairs, ignoring the man's shushes. "You can't blame me for trying to fit in."

"I know, kid. Please, just go to bed." Quentin knocked a couple of times on Peter's bedroom door before opening it and gesturing for Peter to enter. He did, still scowling a little. "Go to bed. I mean it. I'll be talking to you all in the morning about it."

"Okay, _dad_." Peter muttered, letting Quentin shut the door before heading to his bed. His three roommates were watching him but he ignored them, settling for collapsing onto his bed without undressing and closing his eyes. He was still wearing Quentin's hoodie, his scent embedded into the material and trapping Peter in his musk. Head buried in the fabric, Peter inhaled deeply, a rush of warmth in his core. MJ said something but Peter wasn't paying attention and didn't reply, his thoughts going back to how Quentin's lips had felt against his. A small smile crept onto his lips and he touched them with his index finger, ghosting over where Beck's lips had been what felt like moments ago.

Oh, Quentin.

\--

The next morning Peter woke with a relentless pounding in his skull and an awful taste in his mouth. It took a few tries to keep his eyes open, and he noted he was the only one in his room. With a groan he sat up on his bed, nausea rolling his stomach at the movement. He closed his eyes again momentarily, waiting for it to pass and pressing his hand against his forehead. The hoodie he was wearing the night before was on the floor, along with his jeans, but Peter didn't remember undressing. He was just thankful he still had a shirt and boxers on. Once the nausea had diminished, Peter finally headed into the bathroom to relieve himself and glance in the mirror.

The dark circles under his eyes were expected, but his lips were slightly chapped probably from dehydration after drinking so much the night before. Peter skipped the shower, too exhausted and settling for throwing on some track pants and a fresh t-shirt. Sparing a glance at his phone, his heart sunk at the messages May had left him. It was apparent that Quentin had had to call her about his behaviour last night.

It made him cringe outwardly at the memory of coming onto Quentin like that and then making him carry him back to the villa. In a way, he dreaded going down and having to face him. What could he even say to explain himself?

After spraying a lot of deodorant on himself to mask the scent of humiliation and hangover, Peter finally traipsed down the stairs, nervous about the confrontation. Everyone was in the living room, Quentin and Mr Harrington included, and it put him on edge when almost everyone turned to look at him as he entered. A few of the students looked like they were nursing worse hangovers than he was. Cheeks burning, he found MJ and sat beside her wordlessly.

"Morning, Peter." Mr Harrington said, but it wasn't his usual cheery tone. It actually made Peter even more anxious.

Quentin hadn't looked up or spoken on his arrival, and that also made him wary. Peter was just desperately hoping that his actions hadn't caused a rift between them both, as losing Beck would send him spiralling back out of control.

With an awkward smile at MJ, who thankfully returned it and took his hand into hers, Peter glanced up at Mr Harrington and returned the greeting.

"Now, you all know why you're here. We've been lenient with you to the best we could, but your actions last night were unruly. Underage drinking is serious. It is not tolerated, and you guys are very_, _very lucky we only have a couple of days left of the trip otherwise we would all be going back to Queens today. However, I hope I make myself clear when I say that it will not be tolerated, you will be subject to bag checks if we suspect that you've been purchasing substances illegally, and this will not be taken lightly. There is a reason that alcohol has an age restriction on consumption. Do I make myself clear when I say that this will_ not_ happen again?" 

A few quiet yeses. Brad was glaring daggers at Peter, who sent them right back. Nothing would've been found out if he'd kept his stupid mouth shut. Everyone was thinking the same. There was silence after that for a while. Nobody spoke, but there were a few exchanged glances.

"We leave tomorrow morning. So, I guess, punishment is no going out today-" There were a few outbursts, but Quentin spoke over them. "You made the choice to break the rules, and this is your punishment! Do you understand? You're confined to the property only, and if you go further than a mile down the beach there will be _consequences. _You're lucky we aren't leaving _today_ after your behaviour."

There were a few scowls. Peter remained expressionless, glancing at Beck hopefully. There was no smile on his face now, and this demeanour put Peter on edge.

"You're free to leave. Don't break any more rules, and there won't be any more problems."

Everyone got up off of their chairs and left. Peter was desperate to linger behind and talk to Beck, but MJ tugged him away before he had the chance. She took him back up into their bedroom, closing the door behind them. "_What did you do?!_"

"I didn't! It's not _my _fault Brad went and snitched and got everyone into trouble. Flash was being a fucking dick!"

"Not that. What happened between you two?"

Peter looked away, a heavy weight in his chest. "I don't wanna talk about it…"

"Peter, you need to tell me…"

There was a pause between them, and Peter stared at the floor, wetting his lips with his tongue. "I…" He started, unsure of what to say. MJ would be disappointed with his actions and he knew it. "In my defence, I'd been drinking-"

"Spit it out!" She interrupted impatiently, eyes slightly wide.

"I kissed him! Okay, I fucking kissed him and shouldn't have but I just - I don’t know, maybe I got the signals wrong and I was upset and he said he liked me and just-"

"Peter, calm down. Hey, I'm not mad. I mean I'm disappointed and worried, but I'm not mad. You'll get through this, okay?"

"I'm scared MJ. What if he never speaks to me again? God, I feel so sick. I fucked up so bad, MJ I fucked up I-"

"Relax, hey come here." MJ pulled him into a one-armed hug, her hand on top of his head in an effort to calm him down. "Peter you'll be fine, it'll be awkward but he's your counsellor - he can't just point blank refuse to speak to you. And we're still going to be here for another day. Hopefully you can talk about it and work things out."

"Maybe." Peter was trembling, anxiety filling him to the brim and beginning to overflow. "I don't know, I mean what if he says something to someone? What if he, he gets so mad at me that, I don't know he tells someone, or-or he uses it against me, or-"

"Peter, listen to yourself! Don't get so worked up about this okay, we can sort it out. I'm here for you every step of the way, and if he _does _tell anyone he'll have me to deal with, alright?"

A small nod. Peter was fucking distraught. How could he have been so stupid?

"He is a teacher, and no teacher can hurt their students you hear me? And he _wouldn't dream of it_\- He's not that kind of guy. I promise Peter, he won't hurt you."

"Alright…" Peter pulled away from her, face chalk-white and lip quivering. "I'm sorry, I'm so stupid-"

"You're not stupid. You deserve a break, honestly."

He chuckled at that. "That's what this was supposed to be…"

"Nothing ever seems to go your way, does it?" MJ smiled at him, brushing his hair behind his ears endearingly. It warmed Peter's heart to see how affectionate she was underneath that cold exterior. Convinced him that he could trust her.

"Nope." Peter grinned at her, before bumping her shoulder with his. "Come on. There's only one day left and I still don't have a tan. I'm going swimming."

"I'm right behind you." She replied eagerly, getting to her feet and starting to strip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooooo maybe it has to get worse before it gets better... but aw man nothing ever goes right for peter, i just wanna give him a hug :')


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Quentin finally get to talk about their feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning for this chapter!!(i guess?) there is a description of smut, kind of, but Peter is still seventeen and while it's legal, i can see why it would squick people out a lil.

Peter and Quentin hadn't spoken since that night. A couple of times Peter had attempted to get his attention and failed, miserably, and given up on embarrassing himself further. During the remainder of the trip they'd caught each other's eye occasionally, but Quentin always looked away, twisting the blade in the wound. It was bad enough that Peter was drowning in guilt and anxiety, but now he had no mentor to confide in. MJ was there, but she wasn't _him. _And without him, Peter was beginning to experience that all too familiar darkness creep over his skin again like a disease.

Honestly, he just couldn't wait to go home an get back to his sessions with Quentin. Hopefully they'd be able to talk about it and they could put the awkwardness behind them.

But, after some stern words from May about the call she'd received whilst he was in Barcelona, Peter was informed that she and Quentin would be having a meeting to determine the future of their sessions and discuss Peter's progress. That sent him into a frenzy. What did she mean, _determine the future of their sessions_?! Was he not going to be seeing him anymore? After everything? And after the trip, Peter's demons were beginning to come crawling back and he wasn't ready to face them alone, not again.

"You've made so much progress, Peter! If he thinks you're well enough to discontinue your sessions, that’s good news, right?"

Peter couldn't argue with her. Not without telling the truth. So he bit back the response and simply nodded. After all, Quentin knew he wasn't entirely stable yet. He wouldn't just stop seeing Peter altogether, right?

The day he returned back to school, Peter's anxiety was at an (almost) all time high. He'd been hoping to run into Quentin in the corridors, and nothing. May hadn't called him yet to let him know the verdict, and he was frankly losing his _mind _waiting. Most of his day had been spent with MJ, where he expressed his worries with the only person in the world he knew he could, and she did her best to comfort him but it was to no avail. When the bell rang to signal the end of the day, Peter all but flew out of his class and took a brisk pace home, unable to wait much longer to hear the news. When he arrived, May was out grocery shopping and it took every bit of self-restraint not to just _cry out _in frustration. The wait was becoming unbearable, and Peter could feel literal cracks in his mental state.

_Just come home and say he wants to see me. Please just say he still wants to see me._

May returned with dinner and groceries half an hour later, and noticed the stressed expression on Peter's face. "You alright kiddo? I got Chinese food, your favourite."

"How… How did the meeting go?" Peter asked apprehensively, not taking his eyes off her for a second.

"Well, actually! Quentin thinks you're doing well enough to discontinue sessions for the time being, and he and I are so proud of you."

_No._

_This couldn't be happening._

Peter felt his eyes sting with tears, and a small, quiet "oh" left his lips. Eyes tore away from May and he sat back down on the couch, blinking rapidly.

"You alright?"

"I'm fine- I'm not hungry, actually. I'm uh- I'm gonna go, go see MJ. Get something to eat with her."

"Is that the pretty girl from the trip? Have fun!"

"Yeah." Peter grabbed his jacket and left the flat, feeling entirely too claustrophobic in there. Luckily his suit was underneath his clothes as he'd planned to go on patrol after finding out the good news. But for now, all Peter wanted was some space to be alone. He took off out of the apartment building, heading into his usual alleyway to strip and web his bag up. Once he'd masked himself, he thwipped and started to swing between the buildings, the adrenalin rushing through his body not the familiar excitement he experienced in the air. He'd hoped the rush of wind would deafen out the thoughts protruding into his mind but he was clearly wrong. After only a minute he ended up launching up onto the top of a building, landing on the roof and collapsing onto the ground.

_It's just a panic attack. Breathe._

As his breath quickened, Peter tugged off his mask to access more oxygen and perched on his knees, hand on his chest as his heart rate increased.

Beck was mad at him. Hell, he didn't want to even _see him _ever again. He should've known it was going to happen, how could he even hope to come back from something like this? He'd finally had his first good relationship with someone since Tony and now he'd gone and screwed it all up. God, he was so fucking _stupid_; Quentin would never forgive him for this, and it was time to wave goodbye to the best thing he'd had all year. All of the time they spent together proved meaningless. Quentin was disgusted by him, and rightly so. Peter was a seventeen year old kid, and Quentin _wasn't about that life_. Why didn't Peter just ignore it and try to be a normal kid? Oh right, because he _wasn't _a normal kid and never would be. Normal kids didn't dress in spandex and fight crime; they weren't traumatised from dying and coming back to life and then watching their closest mentor die right in front of them when they could've _done something to help_, and normal wasn't falling in love with your fucking counsellor and then making moves on him while drunk in _fucking Barcelona_. No, Peter was so far from normal it was laughable. Maybe that's why the entire situation had him hysterically sobbing into his hands, broken laughter interrupting the floods of tears choking their way out of him.

_Congratulations, Peter! You fucked up, yet again._

Part of Peter desperately craved to dial the number on his cell he had for Quentin; just to hear his voice, even for a second before he'd probably realise who it is and hang up. But Peter knew that was just a pathetic feat even for him, and he ended up opening his camera roll instead. There were the photos he took in Barcelona, from the night they ate by the sea and took selfies as they walked, Beck's arm wrapped tightly around Peter's shoulder_. They were laughing. _It made it sting a thousand times more. The tightness in his chest was dizzying, and Peter squeezed his eyes shut as he attempted to regulate his breathing. This couldn't all be for nothing. This couldn't be how it ended. They had to talk it out, or Peter would go out of his mind.

But over the next few days, Peter saw very little of Quentin Beck during school. The times their eyes met in the hallway, Quentin would turn and head in the other direction, clearly avoiding Peter. It crushed him every single time, but he was so enamoured with him that Peter couldn't help but stare every time he was near. MJ told him he had to forget about it, because Quentin was obviously uncomfortable, but Peter was determined to talk it out with him. There was no way Quentin could just leave him in the dust like this, alone with his mental illness. It wasn't _him. _

By the end of the week, Peter had reached his limit. After a night of endless nightmares and panic attacks, he decided enough was enough and took matters into his own hands.

When his appointment left his office, Peter took his chance. Without knocking, he headed straight in and felt a rush of irritation at Quentin's shocked and uncomfortable expression at the intruder. "Why are you avoiding me?" Peter demanded, furious and upset and over-emotional over the entire situation. It had taken it's toll on him physically, and there were dark circles under his eye from a lack of sleep. His waterline was red rimmed from the constant crying, and his hair was a mess. Honestly, Quentin didn't look much better, but Peter was too riled up to question it at this moment in time.

"Peter, please can we not do this…"

"No!" Peter slammed the door shut, and Beck flinched at the bang of the door almost flying out of its socket, getting to his feet. "_Tell me why you're avoiding me! _It fucking hurts!"

"I can't see you anymore, Peter. Not after that night."

"It was a mistake!" Peter replied breathlessly, not noticing how shrill his voice had become in his frustration. "I was drunk, you said that yourself! I can't - I can't not see you anymore!"

"Why is that, Peter? You were doing perfectly fine until-"

"Until you decided you didn't want anything to do with me anymore."

"It's not like that, Peter."

"Well what is it like, Beck? I got better, because of you. You helped me through the darkest period of my fucking _life _and I kiss you once because I'm drunk and suddenly you can never talk to me again? Quentin!" Peter was shouting, eyes spilling tears down his cheeks as he spoke. His voice was so unstable he was shocked he could even form a coherent sentence, let alone _yell. _But he was tired of being cast away like he was nothing. He was tired of being hurt.

"I'm your teacher, Peter! Do you have any idea what it would be like if anyone found out what happened? I could lose my job, hell I could be made a sex offender because of _your _drunken mistake!"

"But I'm legal!"

"You're a student!"

"I can't never see you again, Quentin! It would fucking break me!"

"Why, Peter? Why do you need to see me so _desperately_?"

"Because I'm in love with you!"

The sentence cut through the theatrics like a knife, and there was silence. Peter couldn't breathe properly through his sobs, and he sat down in one of the chairs, face in his hands. He was hyperventilating.

"Peter, please calm down…"

"How can I calm down? You fucking hate me and I'm going to lose my mind without you."

"I don't hate you, Peter…" Quentin was in front of Peter, dropped to his knees. "Peter, I far from hate you… I just don’t think with these feelings it would be ethical to continue see each other."

"I can't live without you. I was ready to die without you."

"There is so much to life Peter, you can't say that. You know there is more than me."

"You're all I want…"

"I'm sorry…" Quentin placed his hand on top of Peter's for a moment, before getting back to his feet. "You should go."

Peter glanced up at him, eyes shining with tears. There was an unreadable expression on Beck's face.

"I can't."

"You have to."

"No…" Peter stood, wiping his eyes and taking a sharp breath. "No."

"Peter…" Quentin warned, no malice behind his words.

Without another thought, Peter closed the space between them both and kissed him again. It was desperate and emotional, not unlike the one they shared in Barcelona, and Peter felt himself clinging to the man before him urgently, as if letting go would mean the end of the world.

"Peter, stop…" Quentin tried, but he didn't pull away this time, Peter noted. And he kissed him deeper, hands on Quentin's face as he clung to him as if his life depended on it. "Peter, we can't… It's not safe, I can't…"

"The door. Lock it." Peter whispered against his lips, pulling away to glance up at Quentin's conflicted expression. "Please."

With hesitation, Quentin did as he was instructed and closed the blinds for good measure. He returned to Peter with a newfound impetuosity, hands finding themselves on Peter's lower back and lips returning to Peter's. The kiss was sloppy, fierce. Months of pent up emotion suddenly let loose through the use of their lips, and Peter opened his mouth to allow Beck to deepen it, moaning against his lips as wet muscle brushed against his own. Peter nipped on Beck's lower lip, earning a grunt from the man and they were both toppling over each other, refusing to break the kiss in order to find the chair. When Beck finally did, he collapsed into it, allowing Peter to clamber into his lap and press his ass into him.

"W-wait-" Quentin pulled away from Peter sharply. "No - you're seventeen, I couldn't - this is bad enough but I - we can't, not yet okay?"

"Okay…" Peter agreed, wasting no time in crashing his lips back into his. There was a stiffness in his pants that he struggled to ignore, and Peter felt himself gasp as Beck's own hardness began to press at his entrance through their pants. His hands were in Beck's hair, pulling and raking as they kissed and Beck's moans were as sweet as honey. Peter drank in them, continuing his tugging and gently rolling his hips against Quentin. The man gasped sharply into the kiss, hips stuttering and hardness difficult to ignore; but Quentin was adamant about his decision, and held Peter still in his arms, hands on Peter's hips as they kissed roughly.

And that was how they came about resuming their sessions. Quentin had called May, explaining how Peter had come to him one day after school distraught and in need of help; whilst that wasn't entirely the truth, it wasn't far from it. However, their sessions were vastly different from how they'd begun. They'd begin mostly innocent, Quentin perhaps making a few quips whilst Peter talked about his day, but usually ended up with Peter in his lap, tongue in his mouth and moans in his ears. Quentin wanted to wait until Peter was eighteen before they had sex. Whilst Peter disagreed with Quentin about being unprepared and vulnerable, he accepted his decision and settled for the make-out sessions, grateful that Quentin had even reciprocated his feelings at all. It turned out, Quentin had had feelings for Peter for quite some time, but being his teacher was unable and unwilling to act on them. The day they'd kissed in Barcelona had left him desperate for more, yet Quentin's own morals prevented him from acting on it and he'd been too afraid to see Peter again in case those feelings had become too intense. They just had to wait until Peter was eighteen, which wasn't too long to go, before they could officially begin a relationship.

For now, they had to settle with heavy make-out sessions in his office whenever they had 'meetings'.

As time passed, they began to get more and more intense. Peter's sexual frustration was becoming more of an issue every time they met, and while Quentin could repress his urges, Peter could not.

Peter had come in last period, mind fogged with thought of Quentin and him only. Quentin's hoodie was covering his body, the scent of him riling up all day to the point where he couldn't focus on his classes with Quentin's musk fogging his senses. It wasn't long before they were entangled in each other, and this time Peter was on the desk, Quentin between his legs kissing him passionately.

A blush crept onto Peter's face as his cock sprung up to attention immediately, and Quentin chuckled lowly at the sudden hardness pressing against his leg.

"You're particularly eager today… I noticed you're fond of my hoodie. You been thinking about me?"

"Mh…" Peter groaned against him, head leaning back as Quentin angled his mouth to press kisses against Peter's sensitive neck. "Ah… You're all I can think about…" Peter gasped out, hips stuttering as Quentin sucked a hickey into his collarbone, knowing Peter's healing factor would mask the marks before anyone could see.

"I'm glad to hear." Quentin's knee was pressing lightly against Peter's crotch, not providing enough friction to get him off, however. He continued to kiss along Peter's collarbone, using his teeth to gently nip at the sensitive skin and elicit a weak moan from the boy beneath him. There was movement against his knee, and Quentin was feeling particularly generous today and pressed in a little rougher, engulfed in the sweet little noises of pleasure Peter was providing for him. "Shit… Oh, Peter…"

With a keening moan, Peter kissed Quentin back forcefully, his hands moving to cup Quentin's crotch through his jeans; that caused the other man to groan and stiffen, mouth going slack against his. Taking his moment of weakness for granted, Peter rocked his hips up against his knee to provide some friction, using the technique he picked up from Quentin to take control of the kiss, exploring Quentin's vulnerable mouth with his own determined. Both parties groaned, and Peter continued to palm Beck through his jeans as he rocked against his knee, his cock steadily leaking precum into his pants as he moved. Beck's hands moved to Peter's ass and squeezed him roughly, evoking another low moan from his lips that he silenced with his hand. Pressing a finger to his lips again to reiterate that they _had _to be quiet, Beck removed his hand from Peter's mouth and repositioned it under his ass again, practically lifting him off the desk and allowing him to rut against his thigh, feeling how desperate and needy he was underneath him. Quentin's own dick was solid and painful, but there was no way to tend to it now; and Quentin as perfectly satisfied with Peter's lips on his, until he pulled away again to suckle against his neck.

"God, you're so perfect…" Quentin breathed out against Peter's neck, licking along the marks he'd left and gently nipping at his earlobe. One of his hands slid along the curve of Peter's waist, slowly slipping under his t-shirt to feel the bare skin and sensing him quiver under his touch. _So perfect._

Peter was overwhelmed by all of the sensations, and bucked harder against Quentin's thigh, tilting his head so that Quentin could access his neck better before suddenly becoming ravaged with pleasure, the sparks in his core flourishing into an aggressive inferno as he came abruptly. The orgasm was swift and violent, leaving him crying out against Quentin's hand as hot cum spurted out of him and into his pants, quickly soaking through his crotch and leaving a damp patch visible on the front of his jeans. Legs trembling, Peter heaved for air and felt sweat dampening his hair as he collapsed into the crook of Quentin's shoulder.

Beck wasn't expecting Peter to have came at all, nor in his pants, and was simply petting his hair, shocked. He sneaked a glance at the damage and noticed a large percentage of it had ended up leaking out onto his own pants, and he sighed. "Looks like you were _really _enjoying yourself, hm?"

Peter nodded into the crook of his shoulder, Beck's tender embrace comforting as he came down from his high. There was an uncomfortable stickiness in his pants, but other than that he felt _pretty fucking spectacular. _Eventually he pulled his head away from Beck's shoulder, glancing up at him. Those baby blue eyes never failed to hold him captive, enticing him further. Tired, Peter pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. "How am I gonna get home covered in cum?" He asked meekly, cheeks pink with the effort and embarrassment.

"I'll drive you home." Quentin decided, pulling away from Peter and helping him down from the desk. Not that he needed it. "You alright until then?"

"Yeah, it's just a bit of cum… I've dealt with worse."

Wondering how on _earth _Peter could've dealt with worse than cum all over his crotch, Quentin poked his head out of his office door to see if the coast was clear. With fifteen minutes until school ended, he motioned for Peter to follow him out and head out to his car quickly.

As they settled in together, Peter thought back to the time Quentin had taken him home after having a panic attack on the field. Oh, how times had changed.

The drive back was comfortable, and Peter didn't have much to say other than _"I'm sorry I came in my pants and on your leg."_

Beck had simply chuckled in response, saying he was surprised he'd even been able to hold out so long, being a teenage boy and all.

"Does this mean I've lost my virginity?" Peter asked suddenly, an excited expression on his face.

"I mean - sure, I guess. You used my leg as a humping post, though, so I'm not sure it really counts."

"Stop…" Peter whined, face going pink again and silencing him.

When they arrived back at the apartment block, Quentin walked him to his door and gave him a hurried kiss outside.

"You're more than welcome to come in." Peter implored, desperate to spend more time with the man. But Quentin shook his head.

"I can't stay. But I'll see you tomorrow, alright?"

"I love you." Peter smiled, biting his lip.

"And I love you." Quentin replied softly, giving him one of those smiles he reserved for only Peter. As he left, Peter couldn't help but watch him go; chest squeezing at the sight of Quentin, _his Quentin, _head off down the hallway. With a meek grin, Peter closed the door.

How lucky had he got?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS SO CLOSE TO BEING FINISHED OMG I'M NOT READY TO LET GO OF MY BABY SO SOON!!!!!!!!!! it's so great to have them finally get at it like the sex-starved sad gays they are though, trying to refrain from letting them fuck the entire fic has been the hardest thing i've ever had to endure in my life my goD- I'm hoping to post the final chapter tomorrow though.......... :')


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Quentin celebrate his eighteenth birthday, and there are a few surprises in store for him when they get home...

Peter's eighteenth birthday finally came round, and he had it all planned out; May was under the impression that he was spending it with MJ, his 'romantic partner' (she was in on it, and perfectly fine with being used as an excuse for Peter to sneak out for his birthday). But in reality, he was going out for dinner with Quentin, and heading back to his after for some … _refreshments. _

Most of the day he'd spent anticipating the evening with Quentin. May had helped him to pick out an outfit after Peter told her he was going out for dinner with MJ, and got him appropriately groomed and ready. It wasn't long before he headed off, giving May his love and hopping down the subway. The restaurant Quentin had decided on was right by Times Square, definitely out of Peter's price range but Quentin had insisted that for his eighteenth, Peter deserved the best. After that, he could take him out for some drinks (non-alcoholic for Peter, unfortunately) and then head on back to Quentin's house for the night. With all of the excitement, it hadn't taken long for Peter to arrive at his stop, and his date was waiting for him outside the tube exit.

Quentin looked more beautiful than he had ever before. During the vacation, he had been so gorgeous and tanned and _glowing _that Peter had barely resisted whacking one out to him every day; but now he wore all black, eyes shining brightly amidst the darkness of his outfit. The only thing that stood out from his dark clothes were his spotless white sneakers, popping out against the dark jacket and chinos. His hair was swept back out of his face, dark and fluffy. And his beard had been groomed so that there were clean lines, shaping his face _spectacularly_. Peter couldn't help but watch him for a moment, casually leaning against the handrail and staring into the distance, glowing light illuminating his soft expression until he turned to spot Peter, and he beamed. There was a single rose in his hand.

"Happy birthday, beautiful." Quentin said softly, enough that so only Peter could hear him before capturing his lips in a gentle kiss. His hand cupped Peter's cheek momentarily, eyes closed, before he pulled away to gaze at him again.

"Thank you." Peter practically squeaked, still entranced by how good Quentin looked tonight. He accepted the rose gratefully, and his heart skipped a beat when Quentin laced his fingers with his own. It felt so different than how he had held MJ, a friend but not _lover. _Now, Peter's body was rushing with heat and excitement, leaving him unable to tear his eyes away from his boyfriend.

_His boyfriend._

Times Square was beautiful, one of Peter's favourite places to be. But it was nothing on Quentin Beck.

The restaurant they ate at was less busy than some of the others nearby. It reminded Peter a little of the one from Paris where he had refrained from watching Quentin eat all evening. Now, Peter was free to gaze at his lover longingly. No longer was he chained by his insecurities and restrictions of high school. Finally, at eighteen, he was his own person, with his own freedoms and his will to love _whoever the fuck he wanted_, and he was fortunate enough that his favourite person on Earth felt the same way. It almost felt illusory, but Peter was so thankful for it that he was afraid if he blinked it would slip between his fingers and he'd be left alone again. That was something he told Quentin as they ate, albeit admitting it was a little stupid.

"It's not stupid at all, Peter. With everything you've been through, I can understand why you'd be so apprehensive. But I promise, for as long as I live I am going nowhere. No one can separate us or keep us apart anymore, and I hope you feel the same way."

Of course Peter had agreed, his hand resting atop of Quentin's for a moment. Still he didn't take his gaze off him, eyes locking with Quentin's pale blue. Again, he saw galaxies in them, swirling sapphire and cerulean. But this time they didn't feel so distant. Peter was absorbed in them.

They took more photos that evening. Peter couldn't help but photograph Quentin whilst he ate his tiramisu, glancing to the side with a spoon in his mouth that made Peter giggle. Quentin took one of him in response, but Peter was posing, throwing up a peace sign and cheesing as hard as he could. That made Quentin laugh.

In Times Square, they took a couple of selfies. Quentin had his arm round Peter's shoulders again, and pouted in one of the pictures. Peter laughed, but Quentin kissed his cheek in the next, turning Peter's cheeks a pale pink in response. The picture was grainy due to the darkness, but there was a luminescent glow on their faces that highlighted the important parts.

Peter took another selfie in the subway on the way home, catching Quentin off-guard again. His head was tilted to the side, arm still around Peter to keep him close.

When Quentin unlocked the door to his house, Peter couldn't help but glance around in awe. It wasn't huge, but it was _way _bigger than his apartment. Plus the furniture was beautiful and modern. Peter spotted the pool out of the huge glass windows almost immediately.

"You have a beautiful home." Peter stated as Quentin closed the door behind him.

"I have a more beautiful boyfriend." Quentin replied, offering to take Peter's jacket to hang up.

Peter felt his cheeks grow hot again, and he shook off his jacket. It was warm inside Quentin's house, homely.

"Can I get you a drink?"

"I'm okay, thank you."

Quentin returned out of the hallway to place his hands on Peter's waist, giving him a gentle kiss.

"Thank you for tonight, Q."

"Only the best for my boy's eighteenth. The night's not over, yet."

"Hm?" Peter kissed him again, nipping his bottom lip teasingly. "What have you got in store for me?"

"Your present, for one." Quentin breathed out against his lips, tongue flicking over Peter's bottom lip momentarily. "It's upstairs, though."

"You'll have to take me up, then." Peter's breath hitched and he felt Quentin's hot gaze burning over his skin. Chocolate brown eyes met with cobalt blue, and Peter was lifted off of the ground in seconds; his legs wrapped around Quentin's waist, arms on his shoulders, and he moved his head to kiss at the skin peeking out over Quentin's shirt. In response he felt a squeeze of his ass and exhaled sharply, biting at the exposed skin on Quentin's neck. In seconds they were in the bedroom, and Peter didn't have time to look around before he was dropped onto the bed, Quentin kneeling over him with hunger in his eyes. Peter's core tightened at the anticipation of what came next, and he allowed his lover to nestle between his legs, lightly pressed against him as he took charge of kissing Peter's neck, albeit not as gently as Peter had done to him. Peter was groaning when Quentin sucked hard on the skin of his neck, leaving dark marks behind and flitting his tongue over them as a ghost of an apology before repeating the motion on his collarbone.

It was less than a minute before Peter was hard in his jeans, cock straining against the material as Quentin made work of his neck and collarbone. With a soft groan he bucked up into Quentin's body, heating up all over when the man chuckled darkly into his neck.

"So eager. Don't you want your first time to go slow?"

"I want you to fuck me so hard my grandkids will feel you inside them."

Quentin stilled, and glanced at Peter with a horrified expression.

"… Okay so maybe I'm not so good with dirty talk-"

"Definitely not." Then he was chuckling, and so was Peter, and all the tension between them evaporated into the air and Peter relaxed his body.

"Fuck, that was so bad…!" He groaned, covering his face with his hands.

"I mean … I can't deny it, that was pretty awful."

Peter laughed harder, allowing Quentin to move his hands away from his face.

"Doesn't mean I don’t still want to fuck you harder than a whore on rent day." Quentin whispered into his ear, and just like that Peter was putty in his hands.

"Oh, _fuck…_"

Quentin pulled off his shirt, and then Peter's. After he laid kisses along the bare expanse of skin, from his chest all the way down to the top of his pants. Peter was so hard it hurt now, but Quentin didn't want to give into him just yet and moved his lips back up to one of his nipples, where he took it into his mouth and sucked gently. At that, Peter let out a moan, hips stuttering up in response to the stimulation, and he felt Quentin smirking around the bud. "Fuck, oh fuck fuck fuck…"

"I'm going to have to punish you for that dirty mouth, Pete." Quentin said lowly, eyes flitting open and locking with Peter's. They were lidded and dark, something that caused Peter to blush and look away.

"Please…" Peter was begging now, not entirely sure for but Quentin seemed to know. He was tugging Peter's pants down, his dick straining painfully in his boxers. But Quentin wasn't that merciful.

Moving away from his nipple, Quentin lowered himself down to Peter's crotch, pressing a kiss to his cock through the damp fabric. At Peter's gasp, his tongue slipped past his lips and pressed against the hardness and he tasted Peter through his boxers. Quentin then moved his lips to almost take him into his mouth, the fabric of his boxers the only barrier between his lips and Peter's bare skin. With a hum, he balanced his hands on Peter's thighs and squeezed gently, not missing the groan Peter let out as the vibrations shot up his shaft. The boy was babbling now, trying to say something but only releasing a string of moans and curses. Quentin wanted Peter to experience as much as he had to offer, but he knew he wouldn't be able to hold out long; after all, he was a teenager and Quentin knew how _his _body had reacted to stimulation when he was younger. He was surprised Peter had lasted this long, if he was entirely honest.

"I'm… I'm gonna…" Peter managed to choke out, feeling that familiar sensation build up in his gut disappear in less than a second when Quentin's lips left his groin. The crotch was damp, starting to go cold after being exposed , but the only thought in his mind was being as close to Quentin as physically possible. The man had closed the space between them again, bumping his crotch into Peter's as he caught his lips in a kiss; Peter let out a frustrated sigh, his own hips lifting off the bed in order to provide some friction on his aching cock. There was a hand on his jaw, holding him gently as Quentin deepened the kiss and moved his hand to slide past Peter's waistband and ghost over his length. The sensation was abrupt and unexpected, causing Peter to tense up at the sudden contact but immediately unwind once Quentin's fingers wrapped around his dick. He moaned around the intrusion in his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut tightly as waved of immense pleasure rolled over him with Quentin's gentle strokes. His hands moved to rest on Quentin's shoulders, almost bracing himself on the man despite being flat on his back. As if by mind of their own Peter's legs spread further apart, and his hips were bucking up into the contact again as Quentin's fingers worked around his dick. _Oh, god he was right. Quentin did have magic fingers. _

They remained in that position for a couple of minutes, kissing intensely and moving against each other until Quentin pulled away and glanced down at Peter's flushed expression. His eyes were kind yet clouded over with lust, as though it was taking all the strength he had not to ravage Peter's body with everything he had. No, Quentin wanted this to last; he had to be patient. When Peter opened his own, Quentin felt a tug in his gut that had him biting back a moan of his own. The things he wanted to do to this kid… _His _kid. "You doing good?" He asked, voice gentle and husky.

"Mh." Peter nodded, cheeks a little pink when he realised he was bucking against Quentin's still hips. "Really good." A small grin captured his lips, and he watched as Quentin sat up to start unbuckling his belt.

"Good." Quentin pressed another long kiss to his lips before slipping off his chinos and reaching over for his bedside drawer. Inside was a bottle of flavoured lube he'd bought especially, and he felt his chest tighten at Peter's innocent expression. "You like pineapple?"

"Yeah!" Peter nodded vigorously, taking the bottle from Quentin's hands as the man started to tug off Peter's boxers. Though his eyes lifted when Quentin took off his own, and he could've sworn his heart skipped several beats when he finally laid eyes on the man's cock. How long had he been fantasising about this now? Months? And here it was, right in front of him ready for him to touch or taste or whatever he pleased. Holy shit, it was so much bigger than he'd expected. Clearly his feelings had made their way onto his face, as Quentin spoke again.

"What do you want, Peter? This is your night."

"I…" Peter blushed heavily. "I… Would like to touch it…" He cringed internally at the awkwardness of having to say it. Somehow he'd thought it'd sound better out loud than in his head. Quentin didn't seem bothered by it, though, and instead he laid beside Peter on the bed.

"This is your night. You can do whatever you like." One of his hands brushed against Peter's cheek, and then his bottom lip; he gently pressed it, then slipped his thumb past Peter lips. Peter's response was enthusiastic, immediately taking him into his mouth and sucking the digit so hard that Quentin felt his dick twitch. "You want to suck it?"

Peter nodded around his thumb, shifting his body so that he was now in-between Quentin's legs and releasing him from his mouth. With lidded eyes, he lowered his head and nervously, yet determinedly, took Quentin into his mouth. It wasn't anything like he'd expected at all; it was a bit like sucking his thumb, only a lot bigger. Curiously, he began to suck, balancing a hand on one of Quentin's thighs as he worked out a rhythm. Clearly the man was enjoying himself, and that only egged Peter on; he sucked harder with a newfound determination, the quiet moans above him sending jolts to his own dick that was left untouched between his legs. But Peter continued to lick around his member, seeing how far he could take him in until he gagged and being pleasantly surprised to discover he could take almost he entire length in. Quentin was gasping lightly above him, and Peter let out a soft hum, sending vibrations all the way down the length until Quentin tensed and spoke.

"God I-I don't know how much longer I can last, Peter. S-stop."

Peter obliged, pulling away from his length with a small _pop _and looking up at Quentin with those big doe eyes as if to say _what next_?

In response, Quentin flipped Peter over again so that he was between his legs and he spread them effortlessly. "This might feel uncomfortable."

Peter nodded, a little nervously, as Quentin reached over for the lube. He took the few seconds Quentin took to coat his fingers in it to take a deep breath, attempting to relax his body as much as he could. And then Quentin was looking at him again, eyes brimming with desire.

"Ready?"

Again he nodded, and Peter placed his hands on Quentin's shoulders as the man gently eased a finger into his hole. It wasn't as bad as he'd been expecting, but Quentin was right about it being uncomfortable. It felt funny, and Peter shifted awkwardly as if to accommodate the intrusion but he was provided no relief; instead, he just stilled his movements and closed his eyes, screwing up his face a little as his body adjusted to the intrusion. Quentin had been watching his expression as he stretched him out, and only entered another digit when he was sure Peter had become accustomed to the sensation. Again he pulled that expression, where his nose scrunched up a little and he pursed his lips; but he didn't complain, just wriggled a little as Quentin moved his fingers inside of him and stretched him out as best he could. When he added the third finger, that's when Peter let out a noise of discomfort. It didn't feel like he was going to be able to adjust to the size of the intrusion, his ass stinging with the stretch as Quentin painfully slowly pressed into him. The man had slowed down at Peter's sounds, but Peter begged him to keep going. They were not coming all this way for Peter to chicken out after fantasising about it for so long. He wanted to get his ass royally fucked by this man, whether it hurt or not.

When Quentin curled his fingers, Peter's eyes shot open and he gasped sharply. A ripple of pleasure had shot up his core at the movement and he looked up at Quentin, who wore a faint smirk, terrified. "What was that?"

"This?" Quentin repeated the motion and Peter's eyes fell shut again, a much more needy moan passing his lips. "That might've been your prostate."

"O-oh." Peter forced his eyes back open to watch Quentin as the man pressed into the spot a few more times, his vision going fuzzy with pleasure and body recoiling from the sensation. "I didn't know if they were a real thing-"

"By those moans I'd say it's real." Quentin teased, refusing to relent as Peter threw his head back into the pillow and let out a weak cry. There was a pool of precum already situated on his abs, giving Quentin a not-so-subtle warning to stop before he got the kid off too early. To his immense dissatisfaction, Quentin pulled his fingers away leaving him with an oddly hollow sensation in his ass. Peter groaned exasperatedly, but Quentin was starting to generously coat himself in the lube and that peaked his attention.

Peter watched Quentin excitedly, entire body practically buzzing impatiently. It wasn't long before the man was lining himself against Peter's entrance and he glanced up to meet his eyes, nodding slowly. Nervously, Peter nodded and Quentin started to push himself in. It hurt a lot more than he'd expected it to, the burn causing hot tears to fill his eyes, but he simply closed them and kept his grip on Quentin who was whispering reassuring words into his ear as he pressed in as gently as he physically could. It took a bit longer than Peter was hoping for, but eventually the sting died down and he reopened his eyes, gazing at Quentin's concentrating face just centimetres away from him. One of Peter's hands moved to cup his cheek and he touched it tenderly, thumb stroking the stubble on his cheek as he looked up at him. There was a thin layer of sweat coating Quentin's forehead from the effort, and Peter moved his head to capture him in a kiss. "Fuck me." He managed to whisper into the kiss, shifting his hips to reinforce his request. And Quentin did.

His pace started slow and steady, enough to earn several appreciative moans from the boy under him, but it wasn't long before it simply wasn't enough for the both of them and Quentin started to fuck into him harder, Peter's legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Eventually Quentin started to lose control of his voice and let out a few groans that had Peter ten times more riled up than before. It turns out Peter was into moaning, and begged Quentin to stop holding them back as they fucked. He did, and with each thrust Quentin was starting to pant out curse words, equally as spurred on by the sounds coming from his partner beneath him. They were a mess of tangled limbs and loud groans, fucking each other like it was the last chance they had to.

When Quentin rammed into Peter's prostate, he was blinded with intense pleasure and barely contained a scream; fingers digging into Quentin's shoulders, he felt tears running down his face from how good it felt and started babbling again. "Oh my god, oh fuck- fuck, please- please right there, right- oh my god, yes, fuck oh fuck-" Quentin took it upon himself to slam into the spot as hard as he could, sensing Peter's rapidly building orgasm and moving his lips to suck along the skin of his neck again. When Peter tightened almost painfully around him, Quentin's teeth nipped at his skin from the overwhelming pleasure and he tasted a faint tang of blood in his mouth. Though it didn't stop him from pulling out quickly as his own orgasm hit and he came, hard, all over Peter's stomach. He breathed hotly against Peter's neck as cum spurted out of the tip of his cock to join the mess Peter had already made of himself, but he couldn't find it in him to pull away just yet; Peter was panting in exhaustion, and Quentin shifted his hand to stroke his hair out of his sweaty face. It was damp from sweat, and Quentin smiled fondly at his tired lover. "You good?" He asked, only then noting how broken and rough his own voice was from the sex. Peter nodded in the affirmative, and Quentin spoke again. "Stay there for a second. Don't move yet."

Peter frowned at Quentin when he got shakily to his feet, but did as he was told and laid completely still, aftershocks from his orgasm still pulsing through his body. He headed off into the bathroom, and it clicked when he returned with a damp washcloth. With slightly pink cheeks, Peter allowed Quentin to clean up his torso and entrance with the cloth and thanked him meekly.

"It's nothing." Quentin brushed off, giving him another one of his warm smiles that made Peter's chest go all tight and funny. Once he'd finished cleaning Peter up and returned the washcloth to the bathroom, Quentin spoke again. "You ready for your present?"

"What?!" Peter lifted his head up and frowned hard. "That wasn't the present?"

"No!" Quentin returned from the bathroom, a small gift bag in his hand. He had a lopsided grin on his face, still slightly high from the sex, and he settled down beside Peter who had immediately sat up in excitement. "Happy birthday, baby."

Peter took the bag, completely stumped at what the gift could be. It wasn't until he unwrapped the box and he started to laugh that he understood. "Oh my god!"

"Figured it'd be nice for you to take some better selfies on it." Quentin was grinning widely, and his voice was soft and husky still.

"Oh my god, I love it." Peter pulled Quentin into a tight hug, setting the polaroid camera down beside him as he fought back tears. Happy tears.

"Wanna break it in?" Quentin asked, picking the box up and passing it to Peter again, who took it gratefully and started to set it up. "Our first polaroid together - the first time we had sex." Quentin mused aloud, biting his lip when Peter giggled.

"That was definitely your plan all along, wasn't it? Give it to me after so you could get a photo of me naked."

Quentin feigned shock, a hand on his chest. "Peter! How could you think so lowly of me? I would _never- _no yeah, you're totally right. Can you blame me, though? You look incredible."

A blush crept up onto Peter's already flushed cheeks, and he nudged Quentin with his bare shoulder. "You're a dork." He muttered fondly, before flipping the camera and edging closer towards his partner. "Smile!"

The flash clicked, and Peter took the photo out, starting to shake it to develop the image. Quentin watched in amusement, before the image appeared and there was a tug in his chest.

"Gorgeous." He murmured, pressing a kiss to Peter's cheek and laying down on the bed beside Peter. Once he'd set the camera and photo down on the bedside table, Peter laid down too, smirking at the yawn Quentin failed to stifle.

"Tired?" He asked, a small grin on his face.

"Shut it, you. I don't have youth on my side anymore."

"No, but you do have good dick game."

Quentin pulled a face at that, a mixture of bemusement and confusion. "Thank you?"

"It means you're great. With your dick." Peter blushed a little, but it vanished when Quentin pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

"Thank you, Peter. You're great with your ass too, I guess."

At that, they both laughed. Peter shifted onto his side to glance at Quentin momentarily. The man was watching him intently, sapphire eyes trained on him and never once leaving. Then, Peter moved closer and buried his face into Quentin's chest, warmth blossoming in his core when arms wrapped around his back. They were still naked, but they hardly noticed; the only thing on each other's mind, was their lover. Peter was enveloped in his warmth, his natural musk comforting and hypnagogic. Before long, Peter was drifting off to sleep in his arms. Quentin's skin cushioned him and one of Peter's legs had made it's way to hook over his waist, keeping him as close to him as physically possible before he allowed himself to doze off. His partner kept him close as he slept, also drifting off for a short while as the two held each other close.

\--

"What made you want to become a counsellor?"

The two were under the covers now, and it was dark out. There was a faint glow of the moon shining through the window, and the TV was on, providing a low light. The window was open and a faint breeze rolled in, welcome yet with enough bite to make the pair snuggle under the covers together. Peter had his head on Quentin's chest, which was like an oversized hot water bottle to him, and he wasn't planning on letting him go any time soon. Quentin was thinking the same, an arm wrapped around his boyfriend's body to keep him close. Peter was listening to the steady thrum of his heart, noticing it pick up at the question.

"I'm not sure I want to go into detail…"

"Then don't. Just tell me what you can."

Quentin sighed strenuously, closing his eyes for a moment. "Okay… Well, when I was young, my parents died. It was a freak accident, I don't want to…" He went quiet for a moment, before taking another breath. "My sister and I, Misty, were placed into foster care when I was twelve and she was seven. It… It really wasn't great, in there. I'm glad she found a family who cared for her, eventually. But, well, they didn't want to take me as well. So they took her, and I was kind of yo-yo'ed around families for a while. I lost contact with her. I don't know where she is now, or how she is or what she's doing or… But, I don't know… It was pretty rough, and I got into some bad company while at the homes. I was young, impressionable. Alone. Grieving still. It didn't take much to convince me to start using."

Peter listened to each of his words carefully, never once losing focus. Quentin's heart rate had jumped, and he stroked his chest reassuringly in response.

"I uh- I could've done well, you know? At school, I mean. But we didn't have guidance counsellors or teachers who were interested in sob stories. They were there to get our grades. Nothing more, nothing less. Drugs were just the next best thing to deal with it, you know? And then when you're being told by the only people who seem to care about you that school isn't worth it anyway, because how's it gonna help you in the future? Especially when you won't have one. Then that's when you start to care less about your grades and your own health and it becomes more about scoring and getting away from anxiety and trauma. And I didn't have the best time because of it."

He fell silent for a moment, and his body tensed; Peter picked up on it immediately, and he glanced up to look at Quentin, who had his eyes squeezed shut tightly, like he was trying not to cry. _Oh…_

"It um- it was Hell. The people I thought were my friends weren't my friends, the teachers hated me because they thought I was a delinquent and I couldn't even find a proper home to stay at for more than a couple of weeks. It was just - God, it was so lonely, Pete." His voice broke, and Peter's hand sought out his immediately. Quentin accepted it, inhaling sharply and continuing. "When I left school, I had no qualifications or grades and no one wanted to hire me. And then when I had nowhere to stay… I ended up staying with some … Other drug users I'd known in my youth. It's not like I had anywhere else to go, right? We'd score, some guys would go out and do some muggings and we'd be able to eat. It, it sucked. I never took part, because it was wrong oh man was it wrong - but what other option did I have other than to stay? To use money stolen from people to keep myself alive? I was lucky to eventually get a job, just as a cashier and I had to clean up my act, which I did but… I just, I knew then that I needed to do something. And I saved, for years, to be able to get a degree and do what I always wished someone would do for me when I was in need, and I guess I… Became a counsellor. Maybe I could've been okay, if I could've just _talked to someone._ I didn't want any kids who went through similar experiences to have to go through what I did when I left school. Hell, if I can prevent it happening _at _school I will. But it was- it was just awful, Peter. I never wanted anyone to go through that again, and if I can help just one kid… Then that's enough, you know?" His body was shaking now, voice still unsteady, and Peter kept his eyes on him.

"Quentin… You did help at least one person. You helped me. Hey - you know how bad it was when I first came to see you. And now I actually smile." He joked, smile wavering when Quentin opened his eyes to look at him and a tear fell down his cheek. "Hey, listen - you've done, an amazing job. Not many people would do what you do, especially when it comes to keeping your students safe. You are the only person I've ever trusted with my life, and I knew that subconsciously from the second time we met. You're a good, good man. I couldn't ask for anyone better, there never would be." Peter used his thumb to brush away the tear, hand warm against Quentin's cheek. "I'm so, so proud of you Q… It's okay…" When he finally broke down, Peter shifted their position so that Quentin could bury his face into Peter's neck. The warm tears were wet on his shoulder, but he placed his hand in Quentin's hair, messing with it as he let out years of emotion out in one go. It was actually scary to see Quentin, who was usually so composed and calm, lose his casual demeanour like this and express how he was really feeling; in a way, Peter was thankful that they had finally broken down his barrier and neither two were harbouring anymore painful secrets. What he was not thankful for, was seeing his boyfriend break down into his shoulder so distressed. It hit really close to home - was this what Quentin had seen, every time Peter had panicked in front of him? Peter couldn't help but bury his own face into Quentin's hair, feeling himself starting to get emotional at the situation; he always was a sympathy crier. The pair remained that way for a few minutes, crying in each other's arms until Quentin finally started to calm down and Peter felt himself destress.

They were quiet for a few moments, until Quentin spoke. "I'm sorr-"

"No." Peter pulled him in for another tight hug, scowling hard. "Don't apologise for showing your emotions. Ever."

Quentin nodded, and pulled away. His face was red and splotchy from crying, but despite his messy appearance he looked a lot better for it. "I'm gonna make some tea… You coming?"

Peter nodded, wiping his own eyes. "Yeah. Let me put some clothes on." He threw on one of Quentin's hoodies and a pair of his boxers (they were a little loose on his ass) as his were deemed too dirty to put back on, and he followed the man into his kitchen. It was really late now, probably about half three in the morning. The sky was a velvet black, the moon reflecting on the pool out the back. Peter longed to take a dip in it…

Maybe another day when it was warmer.

Peter sat on the couch and watched as Quentin messed around the kitchen making tea for them both, and he pouted lightly. "How long have you been keeping that all bottled up?"

"Don't think I ever told anyone." Quentin answered meekly, handing Peter his cup and sitting beside him.

"You hypocrite. You're always saying to talk about things before they get too much to handle!"

"Guess I work differently." He flashed Peter a smile that did nothing to reassure him, before taking a sip from his cup.

"I'll love you no less." Peter replied honestly, blowing some steam away from his cup. "If I told you the things I'd… Well, you already know." He laughed weakly, taking a sip from his own cup. "I've … Killed people. And you still love me for me. There's not anything you could have done that would make me love you any less. Well, except if you told me you're a cannibal. Or a rapist. Or a pedophile. You're not, are you -"

"No, I'm not." Quentin was laughing now, and he nudged Peter's side with his free hand. "It's just… Hard."

"I know… But if, or when, you want to tell me I'll always listen. And I'm here for you, okay? Until I die. I love you, Quentin."

Quentin glanced over at Peter, who wore an endearing expression on his face. Peter, who had come to him months before in pieces he had to try to stitch by hand back together. Peter, who had admitted to suicidal ideations, who'd said he didn't want to try to carry on because it would never be the same. Peter, who sat beside him with a warm smile on his face and wore his hoodie and boxers. His boyfriend, Peter.

The one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

"I'm enamoured with you."

Quentin leaned over to place a small kiss on the boy's lips, tasting honey and lemon but also _him_.

"I love you too, kid."

And for the first time in his life, Peter was sure of it. His first crush on Tony, and his first heartbreak at his death, was long forgotten now. His future was Quentin, and despite his initial response to losing his first love, Peter was looking forward to it. Finally, he had meaning to go on. And, as he leaned to the side and pressed a gentle kiss to his boyfriend's lips, he finally realised that it was because of the man beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I finally finished a fanfiction,,, holy shit, wow. originally this had planned to go a totally different way and the trip to europe wasn't going to be a part of it, but i am so glad it was. this ended up so much longer and slow-burn than i had anticipated and honestly, i don't regret any of it. and, surprise! both peter and quentin were harbouring much darker secrets than the other would have guessed, but that's not something to discuss in this fic. although it was revealed that peter felt more than just respect towards tony, let me stress that there WASNT a relationship between them both, and it was 100% onesided which is why it hurt him so much to lose him. but now peter can finally let go of his feelings for tony, and quentin can put aside his past and move on. maybe eventually they'll become comfortable enough to discuss it with the other...? who knows.
> 
> thank all of you guys for the endless support on this fic, without the sweet comments and love i got from you all i probably wouldn't have had it in me to finish what i had planned originally, let alone take a completely different direction because i wanted to put more into this work <3 their relationship has really grown on me now, and this story has meant so much to me while writing and it's not something i'll forget easily. i really hope you enjoyed the ending, and perhaps i'll even add minor oneshots to the story one day because i can't seem to let these two go, lmao. 
> 
> please let me know what you thought of the ending, i'm really interested in your guys' opinion!! thank you again for reading hehe <3


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